Knock Knock

Some lessons we learn early in life. While cleaning out a file cabinet I came across a folder of old stuff, including a poem I wrote on Thursday, December 6, 1973. In my twenty short years on earth I had apparently already stumbled upon the inconvenient truth that pain and love are partners. They are a package deal, and try as we might, we simply can’t have one without the other. Not if we want the real-meal-deal.

Looking back at that young woman in the midst of her last year of college I’m not exactly sure what prompted the writing of that little verse. It could have been the disappointment that comes when the boy you love doesn’t love you back (or even see you in the first place), the loss of her own voice and with it the vision for an advanced degree and a bigger life, or simply the inevitable angst of growing up. Regardless of their origin, her words still ring true.

Love hurts.

It isn’t in our nature to welcome pain, much less invite it in when it comes knocking on our inner door. But pain is the price of admission to a life of love. It is a messenger sent to get our attention, letting us know that something or someone is in need of tending. We are fallible folk, prone to mistakes that will inevitably hurt those we love, including ourselves. Love’s task is to understand the source of the pain and do what it takes to address the underlying cause. Sometimes it’s a quick fix, sometimes a long haul, but almost always worth the trip.

When pain knocks at the door, love invites it in for a visit.

Love Is Ridiculous

I’m a flipper-outer.

For example, yesterday morning we were about to head out to meet friends at a nearby wildlife refuge for a lovely summer morning meander, and I was running a little late. The sock in one of my shoes didn’t feel quite right so I had to take it off and start over. The dog’s e-collar was giving me fits. The handle on the fridge needed wiping off so that our friends wouldn’t think less of us if they happened to open the door to grab a beer. I couldn’t find my water bottle. I dropped my phone. It was one of those days when every step of trying to get out the door came with some sort of hitch, and I could feel the inner tension growing. The faster I moved, the worse it got.

Putting a cup of coffee into the microwave I knocked the cup against the side of the door, slopping coffee on the counter………….

Fuck!!!!! I hate having to hurry, I yelled at no one.

Dumping my now hot coffee into the travel mug, I slammed the microwave door. For good measure, I slammed the open cupboard door next to it (because along with being a flipper-outer, I’m also a door leaver-opener). Turning around, Tom was simply leaning against the sink with his cup of coffee, a slight smile on his face. He is unmistakably not a flipper-outer because (A) he simply isn’t wired that way, and (B) I do enough flipping out for both of us.

“Thank you for never (well, hardly ever) making this (me flipping out) into a teachable moment. It feels like you are just watching me thinking ‘God, I love that girl’.”

Pretty much, he said.

And the ridiculous thing is, he means it.

It’s quite a thing to be loved not only in spite of my messiness, but because of it too.

God, I love that guy.

The Voice Not To Be Listened To

It’s hard to know how to be in the world right now. How to stay in it, work in it, and remain connected to what matters. My middle of the night thoughts cast doubt in every direction. How did it all come to this? How much more can we all take? Is the world really a lost cause? I’ll be honest with you. There are times when I think it is. And if I stop there, I might as well call it quits and just stay in bed.

But I can’t quit. And neither can you. Each one of us adds to the world what no one else can. We aren’t called to love, help, and heal the whole world. Just the one that is within our reach.

I’m not sure who or what force is behind evil, but I do believe it exists. And one of the things evil would want me to accept is that individual effort doesn’t matter. It does. My contribution matters, regardless of the outcome, and so does yours. Any voice that would tell us otherwise is not to be listened to.

Like I said, it’s hard to know how to be in the world right now. With problems so big, divides so deep, and fear so rampant, who am I to think that I can make one whit of difference?

Actually, I’m the only one who can. And so are you.

Love Changes Us

“…love is an invitation to growth, a call to responsibility, and a hope for all that could be.”

(From the Opening Prayer, February 14th, 2021, Zoom Church, Bethel UCC, White Salmon)

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It was May 28th, 1994.

“I have a question for you.” he said.

On a snowy hike into the Indian Heaven Wilderness, and we had just stopped for lunch. I was pretty sure his question wasn’t whether I wanted the turkey or the ham sandwich.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

“Yes!” I answered.

Hiking back out it hit me. On the trail going in, life had looked one way. Walking back out, life as we had known it had changed.

Because that’s what love does.

It changes us.

Whenever we say yes to love of any kind, we are committing ourselves to something bigger without knowing how it will all turn out. Love isn’t about certainty, but a commitment to continue to show up and say yes even when it’s hard. Especially when it is hard.

Before we say yes to love, our life looks one way. After we say yes, life as we have known it, will change.

Because that’s what love does.

It changes us.

27 years of continuing to show up and saying yes. Here’s to the next 27!

By A Thread

When my parents died within six months of each other back in 2000, I was sad that they were gone and ready for them to go all at the same time. People have asked me if I had any regrets when they were gone. Gratefully I don’t. Several years before they passed the three of us were sitting in their kitchen, and I found myself telling them that I would miss them when they were gone. That they had been good parents in so many ways. That I never doubted their love for me. That the memories we shared mattered. That they mattered, and that they would be missed.

Are there other conversations I wish we would have had, could have had? Probably. But I think it is rare that any of us leave the planet without a few loose ends. Ours is the task of leaving as few as possible.

My oldest brother, Peter, died suddenly on January 14th. I wasn’t ready for him to go and was grateful that he didn’t have to linger. He would have hated that. Again, no regrets. To say that he and I sat on opposite ends of the political spectrum would be an understatement, and we had more than our share of animated conversations over the years. To decompress I attempt to meditate. Pete would listen to Rush Limbaugh. He had a heart that was as deep as his political convictions, and would move heaven and earth to help someone in need. On the night of January 6th, after all hell broke loose at the capitol, he called me. “You kind of want to talk to the people you love on a night like this, don’t you?” I said. “That’s why I’m calling you.” he replied in his deep, gravely, cowboy voice. The day had deeply saddened both of us, and we found ourselves standing together on the holy ground of our shared hopes for what this country could be. Should be. It was our last phone call. A few more loose ends tied up.

Every morning, no matter what the weather, Tom and I sit outside in the early morning darkness with our first cup of coffee. Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle at our feet, we start our day together on the porch, sitting in old rocking chairs with red cushions on the seat and red and black plaid Woolrich blankets on our laps. One morning not long ago, Gracie and I were out there waiting for him to join us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his rocking chair. Empty. The red cushion and plaid blanket waiting for him. One of us will go on without the other someday.

We are always just hanging on by a thread. If we think it is otherwise, we are simply fooling ourselves. However, it is that thread that weaves our life together, one breath, one choice, and one moment at a time. And, when all is said and done, ours will be a tapestry of each and every one of those stitched together moments.

Ours is the task of leaving as few loose ends as possible.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels

This is Christmas

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

Except it isn’t.

Not this year. There are traditions we’ve come to count on year after year, and if we can’t honor those traditions, well then, it’s just not Christmas.

Except it is.

We have to let go of so many things that make the holiday the holiday, that it almost feels easier, more manageable, and less painful to pretend that it’s just not Christmas.

Except it is.

It might not look anything like the ones we remember, but a reminder of what Christmas has always been— Love showing up in the darkest of places and the most unlikely of circumstances.

It might not look anything like what we want, but it might be just the one we need.

If we try and make it what it’s always been, we’ll miss what it could be.

This is Christmas.

Let’s not miss it.

Heart Broken

One of the most painful acts of love is to bear witness to the pain of another, love them with all of your might, and not be able to fix, solve, or make better. The most we can do is be present with them in the midst of it all, trusting that that can make all the difference.

It breaks your heart to love that way.

It breaks it wide open, making room for more.

Photo: Paul Blenkhorn on Pexels.com

What's Love Got To Do With It?

Valentine’s Day can be rough.

It has become a commercially driven day to express our love for that “special someone” in just the right way.

But what if we don’t have a special someone? What if we have lost them in the myriad of painful ways that mean we are no longer able to share our lives with those we’ve loved? Under those circumstances, Valentine’s Day becomes a reminder of what we’ve lost.

But what if we are happily single? What if we are content sharing our heart with no one but ourselves? Under those circumstances Valentine’s Day can cause us to doubt our choice to go it alone as we field questions from total strangers about how we are going to celebrate a day in which being single seems like a problem.

But what if we don’t feel lovable? What if we have lost sight of our inherent worth simply because we are citizens of the planet, created in the image of the power behind it all, and sent here to love the world within our reach? Under those circumstances, Valentine’s Day becomes a reminder of how far we’ve drifted from our source and our soul.

But what if we don’t feel particularly dazzled by the one we love? What if we have found ourselves in one of those rough patches when it is glaringly obvious that love is as much, if not more of, a choice than a feeling? Under those circumstances Valentine’s Day becomes a reminder that love is far more complicated and much grittier than simple sayings on greeting cards and candy hearts.

Whenever money gets involved with love, it gets tricky. By some estimates consumers will spend in excess of $27 billion. That’s a lot of candy hearts.

So, what’s love got to do with it anyway?

When it comes to Valentine’s Day, who knows.

When it comes to life?

Everything.

Photo: pexels.com

Christmas Then & Now

When I was a little girl Christmas was one of my favorite times of the year.

It wasn’t so much about the presents under the tree as it was about the gathering together around the tree.

It wasn’t the amazement that Santa could make it down the chimney, although I did think that was pretty cool, but about the fire that blazed in our fireplace all season long.

It wasn’t the call from my dad’s friend Jack Figenson to let me know that Santa and his sleigh just flew over their house and I’d better get to bed, but the certainty I had that magic is as real as anything else.

It wasn’t the nativity scene that we put up every year to recreate that long ago story of the birth of a baby, but that I never once questioned the idea that the Love that set all of creation in motion would want to join us in our humanity.

My childish mind couldn’t imagine that the Love that is behind, and around, and within everyone and everything would want anything other than to live amongst us.

To this day, I can’t imagine anything else.

Practicing Love

In his latest book (The Great Spiritual Migration: How The World’s Largest Religion Is Seeking A Better Way To Be Christian), Brian McLaren suggests that we need to learn the practical skills necessary to love well, starting with those closest to us. When those skills are practiced at home they can then be put to use out in the world with others.

His is an extensive list, and to my mind, there isn’t one that isn’t worth the effort. And, because the list is so expansive it might feel a little daunting to you as it does to me, so rather than take it all on at once, pick a few that beckon to you. Or maybe better yet, ask those near and dear to you which ones they would love to see you practice, which btw is practicing skills 7, 17, and 18.

1. Common Courtesies

2. Gratitude

3. Admitting Weaknesses & Failures

4. Self-Reporting Emotions

5. Expressing Hurt & Disappointment

6. Confronting & Forgiving

7. Asking For Help

8. Differing Graciously

9. Surfacing & Negotiating Competing Desires

10. Taking The First Step To Resolve Conflict

11. Upholding Wise Boundaries

12. Saying Yes & No

13. Winning & Losing Graciously

14. Creating Win-Win Outcomes

15. Speaking Truth In Love

16. Speaking Truth To Power

17. Asking Good Questions

18. Requesting Feedback

19. Expressing Affection

20. Opening One’s Heart

21. Giving Gifts

22. Seeking Wise Counsel

What better gift to give to ourselves, and to those we love this holiday season, than to diligently, humbly, and intentionally practice the skills of love. Love is, after all, the gift that keeps on giving.

Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels