Tag: faith

Going Home

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“Just trust yourself, and then you will know how to live.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

My mom’s 97-year-old friend is moving back to Utah. She’s lived in Seattle for more than15 years, has a daughter, granddaughter and great-grandson here as well as many friends and admirers. But she told my mom that she’s moving back because she looked up how expensive it was to transport a body after death. Apparently it’s costly so she decided to move now so she’s near the cemetery where her husband is buried when she passes.

Let me just admit that I don’t know how much it costs to transport a body 1,000 miles. But I can’t imagine it is more costly than packing all your stuff up and transporting it ALL 1,000 miles. While this invokes silly images from the 1983 movie, Vacation with Chevy Chase and Beverly D’Angelo, it also makes me think of a word that I saw on social media last week:

Hiraeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for lost places of your past

For me this Welsh word brings up a sense of the home I’m creating with my two kids as one that changes every minute. With each memory we build a new home and feeling of who we are together and as it evolves, it makes going back only possible in our hearts.

And hiraeth also invokes for me the final calling home that comes with death. For my mom’s friend who believes deeply, it must be a sense of getting ready to go not only to Utah but to her Creator.

Someone shared with me recently that the last word that he and his mom said before she passed was “Later.”  That story filled me with such a sense of promise that I can only hope is the same promise that is with my mom’s friend as she moves.

(featured image from Pexels)

Our Deepest Fears

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“Too many people overvalue what they are not and undervalue what they are.” – Malcom S. Forbes

I have a friend whose affable and outgoing father has developed a little bit of memory loss in his 80’s. To talk with him you wouldn’t notice it but it manifests in that he thinks he doesn’t have enough money. No matter how many times his daughter tells him he’s does and he’s fine, he feels like he’s broke.

It reminds me of my grandmother who became very self-conscious about the way she looked as she aged. She thought other people in her senior living home were gossiping about her when she ate in the shared dining room because she didn’t look right. No amount of reassurance would overcome her inclination to stay in her room.

These stories make me wonder if we all have some deep insecurity or worry that if we never fully heal could define our golden years.

I know what mine is. I feel self-conscious talking about faith. My beloved dad was a Presbyterian pastor with such a specific theology. But what resonates with me is less defined – examples of faith, depth, authenticity, grace, forgiveness, selflessness from all spiritual traditions inspire me. (To be fair, my dad called himself a big tent guy meaning however you got into the faith tent was fine by him).

When I go to speak about faith, I get hung up on the words to use because my upbringing gave me a specific dialect. My meditation practice has given me the feeling of deep faith but not the words to replace it. So somehow my respect for my dad has muted my lived experience and created an impediment to speak of my Budheo-Christian path.

It calls me to heal it so that I can speak of the Divine miracles and great gift that faith has been for me. I have been so fortunate to stand on the top of mountains, feel the Universe all around me and stand in awe of the wonder of creation. And I’ve experienced this feeling of being carried by God in so many pivotal moments when I have been confused, unsure, and broken. Nurturing the small voice of God inside me has repeatedly enabled me to navigate to the next right thing in my path.

I’m heartened by the story about my friend’s dad because even though he feels like he doesn’t have enough money, he has a deep faith that makes him feel secure. So I work on my confidence to speak of all that God has done in my life all the while having faith that it will all come out okay.

(featured image from Pexels)

Stories Again

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“The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt by the heart.” – Helen Keller

My 6-year-old daughter declared the other day that she had it all planned out. She was going to go back to being a baby. That way she could be carried everywhere, be picked up every time she cried and wear diapers so she never had to use the bathroom.

I started gently exploring this idea. I asked “So you are going to give up reading?” Her answer “No way!” And then I asked if she was going to sleep in a crib again so that she wouldn’t be able to get out and come sleep in my bed whenever she pleased. Again – “NO!!”

We’ve had extensive conversations about the fact that when she was 2-years-old like her brother is now, I only had one kid so she got carried everywhere and my attention was only on her. Not only did she get everything that her little brother is getting now, she got it in an even more focused fashion.

That logic does nothing to stop the feeling of jealousy over the easy life she perceives her brother has. Fortunately, they adore each other so she doesn’t begrudge him much. But she sure wishes she had more and it does not work to rationalize it away.

So on a whim I switched to telling her stories about when she was 2. Like the time we went to the Fall Pumpkin Festival and I was trying to carry her and a big pumpkin and then the pumpkin stem broke off. Or the time we went to Canada and how it seemed like the whole trip she was either on her uncle’s shoulders or being swung by her arms between 2 adults.

The stories work. They calm the sense that her little brother is loved more in a way that logic doesn’t. It’s like fighting fire with fire. They engage her heart and are proof that she is someone and has always been someone worth telling stories about.

It makes me think about the last time I heard someone tell a story about me. It was about the time I invited a family that I didn’t know to stay with me when my son was two-months old. The mom was a friend of a friend and she had come to town to help her college aged daughter after she had gotten hit by a car while jogging. The mom, her daughter, her son and the daughter’s boyfriend ended up staying with us for almost 2 months and we had a great time. The story I heard about me was, “Who invites strangers to live with them when they have a newborn?”

Hearing it makes me feel brave, strong, and open. Maybe a little crazy but in a good way. The stories people tell about us – they convey much more than just the adjectives. And of course, there are the stories we tell ourselves like I wrote in one of my favorite posts The Most Influential Person in the Room.

The power of stories keeps showing itself to me. In our spiritual traditions, in our self management, in our relationships, it seems we have the opportunity to reach down deep, touch our core and lift each other up at such a deep level with this one tool. So I’m practicing responding with prose instead of facts. Sometimes it feels like a lot of work. But hey, it’s better than changing the diapers for two kids if she goes back to being a baby!

Renewal

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“We are like someone in a very dark night over whom lightening flashes again and again.” – Maimonides

By the end of last week, I was feeling burnt out. My daughter stayed home from school for a couple of days, I was trying to start a new project with a new client and that’s scenario that causes me the most stress — when I try to parent and work at the same time. I end up feeling like a failure at both. Then I got the news that my favorite teacher from my son’s class is leaving, it added disappointment and worry to my heap. By Friday night, I was feeling disoriented – as if I was driving a dark road without the lights on.

So I took some advice about renewal that I’d recently heard a couple of places – maybe a podcast and the blogosphere and intentionally watched a movie after the kids went to bed instead of flipping through channels or surfing social media. It took me two nights to watch A Dog’s Purpose but I cried, I cheered and at the end, definitely felt better.

In two hours, it reminded me of perspective and faith. It all works out in the end. There is a beautiful design to this life. Once time and the Universe connect the threads, you can see how they all come together for good. I have come to know this in my bones and my Budheo-Christian beliefs (my made up combo name) have given my many examples.

And I’ve watched it work with my mom, especially after the death of her husband of 53 years. When my dad died suddenly in a bike accident, my mom has relied again on again on the verse from Romans 8:28. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” She is an extraordinarily strong, independent, smart woman – but I’ve seen how she goes back and reconnects to that belief to renew her charge to be useful, kind and good.

I get disoriented and disconnected from time to time, I think we all do. What I’ve learned is that it’s a reminder to reconnect to my faith and beliefs and the faster I do it, the less I blunder about without the lights on. Whether it is just sitting still and meditating, watching a movie or hiking to the top of something, when I find the way to renewal, I’m always heartened by the experience. It strengthens my faith that I can find my way back to the Source. Once again, it all comes together, I see how the dots connect or relax into knowing that one day I will.

(photo from Pexels)

Checking for Help

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“If you were waiting for a sign, this is it.” – unknown

Last week I was stressed because my biggest client was 35 days late in paying their invoice for July. I’ve been self-employed for 20 years so it’s not the first time I’ve had a situation like this. I’ve learned on my side, I need to make sure it isn’t an indication of a problem with my relationship with the client and work. If everything is okay and it’s just a payment issue on their side, I’m pretty good at weathering the storm and not worrying about it too much.

So I was fine for the first 2 weeks the payment was late.

But by the 3rd week it was late, I’d started to check the mailbox a few times a day and when on one of those days, an envelope came from my health insurance provider, I ignored it and set it unopened on my desk.

When the 4th week started, I was spending a lot of meditation time both trying to acknowledge and dissipate the stress and praying to the Universe to end the wait.

By the 5th week, I was in a low-grade panic – I’d managed to pay all my commitments but I was down to $14 in my checking account.

Finally the payment came. It was only AFTER it came that I opened the envelope from the health insurance company and found that they’d sent me an unexpected rebate. I’d had a check sitting on my desk for TWO weeks while I sweated out the payment from my client.

It reminds me of the story about a man who gets caught in a flood and is stuck inside his house. He prays for God to save him and while he’s praying, the phone rings. It’s the fire department asking if he needs to be rescued. He answers, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” A little while later after the flood waters have risen even more so he’s hanging out his 2nd story window, some neighbors come by in a boat and ask if he needs help. He replies, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” Finally the flood water is so high that he’s up on his roof and a helicopter comes by and offers to evacuate him. He yells, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.”

After he drowns and goes to Heaven, he asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?” And God replies, “I called you, I sent a boat for you and flew in a helicopter to get you but you wouldn’t come.”

The whole experience makes me wonder if life is simply a process of removing our self-imposed blinders. Note to self: when asking for help, be open to any package it might come in, not just the one I expect.

(Photo from Pexels)

Deep Enough

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“When you realize how perfect everything is, you will tilt you head back and laugh at the sky.” – Buddha

My honorary aunt and uncle came to visit recently. They were my parent’s best friends since before I was born so every time I’m with them, it feels like old times. Talking with my 92-year-old “uncle,” he asked about my son going to daycare all day during the week. “He seems so little for that” he says. And I agreed and added, “True, he is little. But I need the help.”

My uncle looked off, squinted his eyes as if he was trying and failing to imagine choosing to be a single parent, taking care of children, working and balancing it all. Then he looked back and gently said, “I guess I could see that” in a tone that confirmed he couldn’t.

My uncle is a renowned Biblical scholar and retired professor of Theology. He once spent 17 years writing a book on the gospel of Matthew. But he has very little practical knowledge of the world. Years ago my uncle visited a college in Texas and was sitting next to a rancher at a meet-and-greet dinner. The rancher said he had 300 head of cattle and my uncle asked how many cows that was. The rancher famously replied, “I don’t know about where you come from but here in Texas, our cows only have one head each.”

In the moments when I struggle to find any sense of the spiritual plane in my hectic life, I sometimes envy people like my uncle who seem to have created calm and ordered lives in which to acquire deep knowledge of the Divine. I would love to be so deep in the study of life, Mystery and God. But life has called me to be broad instead.

When I sit to meditate in the morning, I usually find I already am participating in the mystery of life, just in a different way than the enlightenment I imagine I could reach if I had hours to go deep. In the quiet moments before I wake my two kids and go full on to get them out the door, I often get a glimpse of the Divine and Universal Flow find right here in my beautiful, messy life.

Sure, I have popcorn in my bra and am changing diapers in the back of my SUV between dropping my daughter and school and my son at daycare but I don’t need to be a scholar to know that God is right there, laughing at the gentle touch between us.

My uncle has only been able to been so deep because he has my aunt who has handled almost all the details of their life, their kids and grandkids. At the end of their visit, she said to me with a smile and a wink on the way out, “I don’t know how you do it all.” And I felt the presence of God in that spark of knowing that passed between us.

(photo from Pexels)

Trust Falls

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“The angel seeing us is watching through each other’s eyes.” – Rickie Lee Jones

My friend Eric was over the other night and my daughter accidentally did one of those “trust falls” when she tripped over something, fell backwards and he caught her. She thought that was so much fun that she wanted to do it again and again.

Watching this, I was trying to think who I trust to catch me. As I started listing all the wonderful people in my life in my head and thinking whether I’d trust them to catch me if I metaphorically fell (like if I got sick), I started automatically providing excuses why I wouldn’t ask. Like there’s Lindsey but she is so busy, there’s Eric but he just started a new job, there’s Katie but she’s a half hour away, and there’s my mom but she should be enjoying her senior years.

I had to meditate on this for a while. Why is it that I don’t “trust” any of the people that I really and truly trust? And the answer is my own fear of vulnerability. I don’t want to ask. I fear having to ever own that there are some days I’m a hot mess on the inside.

Of course this is all thankfully hypothetical but also represents my ongoing battle with over-preparing for life. It’s not just now. I can think back to when I climbed mountains and I would check the packing list over and over so that I wouldn’t have to ask anyone to borrow anything. Or sleep with my contacts in so I wouldn’t be late to tie into the rope team when we’d leave for our final summit bid in the middle of the night.

When I really dig deep, I see that I trust my spiritual guides like my dad and God much more than I do living people. Because I don’t have to ask out loud!

When it comes to trust falls, I think it is far easier to be the person catching than the person falling. Unless you are a 6-year-old and then you love doing the falling. But if I remember correctly from the group building exercises I’ve done in the past, you have to both do the falling and the catching.

A good reminder that we have to practice vulnerability. So I’ll go first. I started blogging regularly because working remotely and being a parent means that I don’t have enough conversations with adults that go deep. That leaves me feeling this weird kind of loneliness that isn’t bored or even unhappy but just scared I’m missing the point.  So I write but I don’t advertise this to anyone outside the blogging community just in case I’m overreaching. But I aspire to one day own all of me and to know the power of doing so.

Whoa! That was scary. But I’ll catch you if you want to take a turn!

Betrayal and Forgiveness

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“True forgiveness is when you can say, ‘Thank you for that experience.‘” – Oprah Winfrey

My daughter’s 7-year-old friend came over the other day with the news that their former au pair had betrayed them (her words). The gist of the story was that au pair had agreed to stay with the kids for a weekend and then backed out. Our young friend said that her parents had found someone else to stay with the kids while they travel leaving only the feeling of betrayal to somehow process.

That word, betrayal, always reminds me of my ex-husband. Because when his friend and my business partner told me of my husband’s infidelities, my husband at the time felt so betrayed because his friend told me. And the more he declaimed it, the more embedded I felt in his betrayal of me and our wedding vows.

In this circular pattern of pain and distrust, there seemed to be no way out. I couldn’t get any resolution of what had happened because every time we touched on it, even in counseling, it just triggered my ex-husband’s feeling of betrayal. He could bring more dramatic outrage to the table so I always ended up bottling it up in a misguided effort to make it stop. When we finally divorced, I was so relieved that cycle was over.

But it left me having to forgive my ex-husband without any satisfying resolution about what had happened. Which was even harder work. Our wisdom traditions talk about the power and necessity of forgiveness. Growing up as a pastor’s kid, it was like the bread and butter of our family. Knowing that and wanting it, I still had to find out my way of actually forgiving. I was like a goat tethered to a stake always covering the same ground until I did.

In the end, I discovered meditation as a way to lean in to the mess of it all and develop a bigger perspective. That is when I finally figured out how to forgive. The pain of betrayal led me to the life of meditation and perspective. Which has then gone on to give so many more gifts of faith, confidence and personal belonging that allowed me to choose to have kids on my own. Looking back, I have never been so glad for the gift of pain leading me to the richness of life.

I know forgiveness is extremely hard to do when we feel like keep the wound open provides evidence that we were the injured party. I recently read a quote by Henri Nouwen, “Your future depends on how you decide to remember your past.” In that passage, he was talking to himself but the Truth of it brought tears to my eyes.

Watching my daughter’s friend as she told me the story, I could see her rewriting her history of the 18 months the au pair lived with and cared for her based on this last interaction. If I could amend Henri Nouwen’s Truth slightly, I’d add that “Your kids future also depends on how you decide to remember your past.”

Praying for Rain

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“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them.” – Rabindranath Tagore

My friend, Mindy, told me this story about her son when he was about 6 or 7-years-old. It was the beginning of the school year and her son didn’t want to have to sit next to Henry in school. He came up with the idea to pray about it. The next day after her son came home from school, Mindy asked him whether or not he had to sit next to Henry. He replied, “Of course not, I prayed about it.”

I was reminded of this story the other day when my daughter was looking for her kinetic sand and said she’d prayed to God that she’d find it. I knew I’d thrown the kinetic sand out so no praying would help! I threw it out because I’d been praying not to have that stuff all over the floor and I knew how to make that happen. 😊 But it also made me think about my relationship to prayer.

The longer I live the less I know what to pray for. As our overall human and my individual scientific understanding of our world has grown, I’ve found it precludes praying for anything that I know how it works. And the more that I think I’m in control of my life, the less that I pray for things like money or even happiness.

So as I summon my centeredness and quiet as I meditate, I find myself instead praying more for a feeling and connection to the Divine. Praying for a voice that speaks kindness, a heart that serves from its depth and a mind that is childlike enough to search for mystery. I pray for an acceptance of things how they are and eyes to discovery the delight in it all. I pray for arms that are tender enough to hold everyone that I encounter during the day. I pray for ears that are open to listening and a patience to do it without judgment. I pray for a curious nose that can draw me to the sweet smelling things around me. I pray for a feeling of grace so that I face the day from my depths instead of my human fragility. I pray for feet that will guide me to my individual path that I should be walking and the courage to do it.

This weekend my daughter was praying for rain. I thought that one was likely to pan out given the forecast but it turned out that she was praying for rain right at that instant. So I shook the wet tree branch that she and my son were standing under and we laughed and laughed. Then when it really rained, we ran around, jumped in puddles, held our umbrellas upside down and sang. That turned out to be exactly what we all were praying for.

A Legacy of Love

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“Legacy is planting trees under whose shade you will never sit.” – Richard Leon

I went to a dinner last night to honor a foundation my dad started 25 years ago. The foundation takes any money bequeathed in wills to the church he was pastor of and gives out grants to deserving organizations. The one they featured last night was a non-profit that helps with refugee settlement and combats the trafficking of children.

Sitting there listening to the work of my dad’s legacy, I pondered what the echo of our lives is when we die. Certainly the love and memories we have made lingered in the hearts and minds of the people we love but beyond that, is there anything else? I’ve helped build a few Habitat for Humanity homes – does that make any difference? What about words? Books? Blog posts?

Thinking about my dad’s quote above, we can plant trees under whose shade we will never sit. Presumably that means that there will be more oxygen to breathe, comfort on the hot days, possibly even food to eat for the people we leave behind and for our communities. We can plant and contribute to organizations and ideas that help ameliorate the pain in the world. And my dad did. But where does that mean my work as his daughter begins?

Someone in the room last night asked for a member of our family to speak. As the youngest child, I assumed it would be my brother or my mom since they’ve always done the talking but it turned out they nominated me. Without any preparation of what to say, I started with the depth, faith and the love that my dad started in me and how that fire still burns. In fact, it feels as if I have come to embody my dad even more in his absence than I ever did when he was alive, in search of God, kindness and love. We do pass a torch to the next generation and I think it’s in the form of the fires we light within other people. It’s not as quantifiable as money left to a foundation but it’s just as powerful.