Connector + Writer + Speaker
So often what we never seem to get around to, is taking care of ourselves. I’m going to go out on a pretty sturdy limb here, and say that this is especially true of women. Our days are so easily filled with tending to the often very necessary and important needs of others, that we easily find ourselves, at the end of the day, resolving to do something about our own lack of attention to our own.
What is one act of care that you can offer to yourself today? This week? This month?
In my tradition, today, on the seventh Sunday after Easter, we celebrate Pentecost, remembering the story of the Holy Spirit descending on those gathered in the name of the Carpenter, to celebrate the Jewish festival of Shavuot. The Spirit sounded like a fierce wind, and looked like tongues of fire. According to the story, those there felt themselves so filled with the Spirit of the Holy that they were able to speak in new languages.
There are days when I long to speak in a new language. One that blesses those who hear it. One that reflects the image of the One in whom we are all created. One that offers the message that has been true since before the beginning of time. A language that says to all, you are loved, you are seen, and you belong.
But man is that hard some days.
It has been windy around our home this week, and the sound of the wind in the pines is nothing if not the Spirit of the Holy, reminding me that Pentecost isn’t a one-and-done deal, but an ongoing story that is meant to be lived again, and again, and again. Today as we head to our church wearing red to symbolize those flaming tongues of fire, to gather again in the name of the Carpenter, I want to remember that that new language isn’t new at all. Our first language, it is as old as the wind that blows through the pines, and it is right on the tip of my tongue waiting to be heard in a world more thirsty for the message than ever.
You are loved.
You are seen.
You belong.
You do not need to know
precisely what is happening,
or exactly where it is all going.
What you need is to recognize the possibilities
and the challenges offered by the present moment,
and to embrace them with
courage, faith, and hope.
Thomas Merton
There is, it seems, always an open invitation from life, even in the midst of bittersweet endings and uncharted beginnings. The invitation isn’t to somewhere else, but to be fully where we are, for it is from here that we must ground ourselves to take the next right step. And the next, and the next, and the next.
Endings of any sort mean the letting go of what has been and the leaving behind of what we’ve known, which, if we let it, will lead to the melding of gratitude and grief into the precious metal of grace. The deeper the gratitude and the more profound the grief, the longer we may need to linger at the threshold between what has been and what will be. These are the days of intentional packing, intentional goodbyes, and intentional moving on. There will be days when we can only pause and rest, and others when we must forge ahead regardless of how weary we feel.
Whether the selling of the longtime home in which we’ve raised a family, the retirement from a meaningful career, the fading of a vision that cannot be brought to life, the loss of a breast, or the ending of a relationship that cannot live up to the commitments made, the invitation is to stay fully engaged in life. Right here. Right now. Trusting that the ground beneath our feet will hold, as it has, as it is, and as it will.
Once a year we get our windows washed, and the before and after is noticeable. We’re good about scheduling a trusted professional once a year to tackle the task, but the upkeep in between, which is up to us, tends to slip right off our radar screen. The truth of the matter is, it wouldn’t take much effort to maintain our windows, keeping them clean and clear to enjoy the beautiful view. A little spritz of windex here, a swipe of a paper towel there, and just like that, the smudges, spatters, bird-strikes, and spots would disappear.
The same holds true for the lens through which we look out at the world. Tending to the things which cloud our vision is easier when we do it in real time, rather than waiting for stuff to build up. When we notice that we are looking at life through the window of an old story, negative self-talk, or a toxic thought, we can do what needs to be done to address it, giving us clear glass through which to see.
Looking out through our windows today, the view hasn’t changed, but the glass through which we see it has.
Plumbing issues can be the worst. I’ve had my share over the years, and maybe you have too. Like those times when you find bits of lettuce floating in a bath tub that has backed up, or the laundry room floor has a half an inch of water on Christmas Eve, or you open the door to the basement only to find a small flood in progress.
In a plumbing system there are valves that allow us to turn things on and off, and to regulate the flow of water coming out of the faucet, from a slow drip to a gushing stream. The pipes in the system are meant to allow the water to flow freely, but when there is a blockage, everything begins to back up and overflow in areas we wish it wouldn’t.
When it comes to plumbing problems, the timing is rarely convenient. When things are running smoothly we probably don’t give it a second thought, and tend to take sinks that drain and pipes that don’t leak for granted until something goes wrong. Suddenly it is all we think about, because when there is a problem with the plumbing, things come to a screeching halt. Drains clog, sinks overflow, and household tasks have to wait until the source of the problem is located and dealt with. Sometime that’s an easy fix. Nothing that a little drain cleaner won’t fix. Then there are those other times when we have to call in some help. We need someone who knows their way around the maze that is a plumbing system. Sometimes that means a trusted someone who is handy with a wrench, and other times it means calling on the help and expertise of a professional. Either way, when things get backed up, it’s time to get some help
As usual, I find myself connecting the dots between what goes on out in the world with that which happens in our inner world. It is as if we come with our own internal emotional plumbing system, where thoughts, feelings, and words are meant to flow freely, and where we have the ability to regulate that flow. The condition of the pipes, keeping them open and in good working order requires our mindful attention. When things are running smoothly, we don’t usually give that internal system a second thought, and tend to take relationships and ease of communication for granted. Then suddenly something goes wrong, and it’s all we think about. We discover that there is a blockage somewhere, and stuff begins to back up and overflow in areas, which usually means on other people, that we wish it wouldn’t. Sometimes it is an easy fix. Nothing that a little reflection and self-care won’t fix. Then there are those other times when we have to call in some help. We need someone who knows their way around the maze that is the human heart. Sometimes that means a trusted someone, and other times it means calling on the help and expertise of a professional. Either way, when things get backed up, it’s time to get some help.
Photo: Pexels-(Digital Buggu)
Digital Buggu
There is a big difference between a house and a home. A house is a structure. A framework within which we live, and what can be seen on the exterior says little about what goes on in the interior. From the outside, a house doesn’t give away much about what happens inside the home, and like many things, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Having sold a house a time or two (five to be more precise), I know that location matters. Some neighborhoods are more desirable than others depending on our preferences, and most of us tend to buy into the best area that we can afford. When putting a house on the market, in order to distinguish ours from others that are similar, sellers are encouraged to create street appeal for potential buyers, and to stage the inside so that they can see themselves living within its walls. But location, street appeal and staging do not a home make.
Or a life for that matter.
When I set out to write a book a few years ago, I did it because it was the next right thing to do. I was compelled to write BLUSH: Women & Wine not to become rich and famous, but to discover why I had come to depend upon wine as a coping mechanism to soften the blows of my own life, and to invite my readers to embark on their own exploration with me. Yet the temptation was there, and sometimes still is, to make the book and my work look good out in the world, rather than using the book and my work to do good out in the world. I am often more easily enticed to sign up for another course to learn how to create a more successful platform instead of standing on the platform that I have and telling the story to those ready to hear it.
It can be easy to get caught up striving to situate ourselves in the right place, be seen with the right people, and surrounded by the right stuff. We develop an image that will appeal to those we seek to impress, and stage our lives to appear accomplished and successful. There is nothing wrong with working to cast ourselves and what we have to offer in the best light, but that is exterior window dressing to the real work of shining a light inside the walls of our life. The work of coming to know ourselves and our vocation, of cultivating our gifts and honing our craft. For only when we do that will we find ourselves at home in our own life, and it is only from there that we are able to step out into the world and offer what is uniquely ours to give.
When it comes to real estate it might be about location, location, location, but when it comes to real life, it is about vocation, vocation, vocation.
Somewhere in a kitchen a long, long time ago a family tradition was born. That tradition is known as the caramel icing cake. A white cake, made from scratch, went into the oven. Meanwhile, on what was likely a wood burning stove, the icing simmered along. As the cakes cooled on a rack in that long ago kitchen, a watchful eye was necessary, as the icing could quickly turn from what candy makers call the soft-ball stage to hard-ball stage in the blink of a weary eye. Once the mixture reached the perfect consistency, a cube of butter was beaten into the icing with a wooden spoon, and it was time to ice the cake. This was no small task as our paternal grandmother dipped a knife into cool water in between every spoonful of icing dropped on the cake, and then spread it quickly yet gently so as not to tear the cake. It would have been easier with two sets of hands, and sometimes that extra set belonged to our dad.
The caramel icing cake made it into our family kitchen, and onto the table for birthdays. Dad made the icing and Mom baked the cake, but try as she might, according to him, her cake never measured up to “Mother’s”, which is of course, what every woman longs for her husband to say after she has stayed up late in the kitchen, after everyone else is in bed, to make the family cake. Again. Truth be told, the cake, his mom’s recipe of course, wasn’t very good. In fact it was downright dry. So……….. One year, our mom secretly bought a box of cake mix, the kind with pudding in it, baked the cake, and threw out the box before he was any the wiser. He probably complimented her on finally getting “Mother’s” recipe right. She probably just smiled. As they say, ignorance is bliss. So is caramel icing. It contains more sugar that you can imagine, and is so rich and sweet it actually hurts your teeth. But in a good way.
If it had been left up to me, the tradition would have passed into family history when the baker and the caramel icing maker passed away. Thankfully, my sister Margie picked up the baton, or in this case, the wooden spoon used to beat the butter into the icing. She learned how to make it along side our dad, and now she is passing it on to the next generation. As they make it alongside her, there is more passed on than just a recipe. Dumping the cake mix from the box, they remember that finding your own way instead of trying to measure up to someone else’s is a delicious way to live. Keeping a mindful eye on the frosting, never rushing it, checking it regularly, and recognizing when it is ready reminds them that patience and persistence pay off. Icing the cake together, they discover that many hands make light work. Of a cake, or almost anything else for that matter.
When it comes to the caramel icing cake, a few things will never change.
Always, always, always use a cake mix with pudding in it, and hold your head up high when you do.
Secure the layers together with tooth picks so they don’t slide apart when icing the cake.
Make a batch and a half of icing, because, well, just because. The family cake isn’t the place to skimp.
Hide it before the party, unless you want to find half of the frosting gone before ever lighting the candles.
The icing tastes as good on your finger as it does on the cake. Especially with your first cup of coffee in the morning the day after the birthday party.
One thing has changed.
Because the cake is simply the vehicle for the frosting, a cupcake will do just as well. Probably better. Less cake, more frosting.
This year, my niece Katie, Margie’s youngest daughter, made her first batch of caramel icing cupcakes all on her own for two-year old Harper Joy’s birthday party.
When it comes to the sweetness of family, a savored tradition is the icing on the cake.
After many years working for Nordstrom, an organization known for its excellence in customer service, the bar I set when it comes to responding to my needs when I am the customer is admittedly high, and surprisingly simple.
Care about me. Help me.
Recently I’ve had two experiences in stark contrast to one another.
LOW BAR
In the Costco checkout line (and for the record, I love Costco) I asked about an item I hadn’t been able to find.
Me: Do you know if you have an capers?
Employee: I have no idea what those are.
My thought bubble: That’s not what I asked.
Me: Do you think someone could find out for me?
The other employee at the register overheard the conversation and asked her to go see if she could find out if there were any capers in stock, at which point she replied: I have no idea what those are.
My thought bubble: That’s not what she asked either.
Finally, yet another employee came over and informed me that they were out of stock, but were anticipating new ones that would, of course, be located in the meat department.
My thought bubble: None of you have any idea what a caper is, do you.
The experience could have so easily been raised to a higher bar.
Me: Do you know if you have any capers?
Employee: I have no idea what those are, but want to know, and would be happy to go find out if we have any.
HIGH BAR
I’ve spent approximately 5 hours, with five different customer service agents on the phone with Apple Care to resolve an issue on my iMac.
Me: I’m having a problem with the Message function on my Mac. I can receive messages but not send them.
Employee: I’m so sorry for the problem. Let’s take a look and get this resolved for you as quickly as we can.
My thought bubble: I love Apple Care
The problem isn’t resolved yet, and has been escalated through the ranks, now landing with the engineering team, but there is no doubt that they care and will stick with me until it is resolved.
The experience could have so easily been dropped to a lower bar.
Me: I’m having a problem with the Message function on my Mac. I can receive messages but not send them.
Employee: We have online resources. Have you tried those?
When it comes right down to it, in one way or another we are all in the customer service business, because we are all here to care about each other, and help each other. Or at least we should be.
In case you’re interested...https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caper
Illustration by Otto Wilhelm Thomé and displayed on Wikipedia
One of my least favorite emotions, and yet like all of the ones we’d rather not experience, discouragement has something to say. It sets in when something rears its head again, or when we think we’ve gotten to the root of something and come to find out that we haven’t. At this point it feels like it would be easier to just throw in the towel, forget whatever the issue is, or give up rather than keep going. But this gray sense of disappointment, whether in ourselves, others, or both, is an invitation to look deeper.
Discouragement tells us that what’s been done isn’t what needs to be done. Our work is to figure out what that is.
Discouragement suggests that there are stones yet unturned, paths not yet taken, or viewpoints not yet seen. Our work is to turn over new rocks, embark on the new trail, or look through a different lens.
Left to its own devices, discouragement can lead to a loss of confidence and enthusiasm, leaving us downhearted and demoralized. So rather than leave it to its sorry little self, it is better to grab it by the hand and walk with it until a next right step appears, which if we stick with it, it almost always does. And that’s encouraging.
Maturity is not a static arrived platform, where life is viewed from a calm, untouched oasis of wisdom, but a living elemental frontier between what has happened, what is happening now and the consequences of that past and present, first imagined and then lived into the waiting future.
~David Whyte: CONSOLATIONS
What does your past tell you that can help you live more fully into your waiting future?
MOLLY DAVIS is the founder of Trailhead Coaching & Consulting. She writes about lessons and adventures from the trail, and knows from firsthand experience that sometimes the only way to discover where you want to be, is to get lost where you don't. If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to pass it along.
BLOGS I FOLLOW: Rule13Learning | Seth Godin | Beanpole Pottery | Brain Pickings | Richard Rohr |
