I Am Where I’m Meant to Be

I Am Where I’m Meant to Be

Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash

“I am where I’m meant to be,” I kept telling myself as all my Friday plans were ditched and I succumbed to day two of a migraine.

Things happen for a divine reason and here I was, re-learning what it means to be present. My daughter was home sick and we’d just come through a rough 72 hours.

I walked into the family room to check on her – my daughter-patient – lounging in front of the TV. I was thinking I could console her in some way when she reached her arms up to me. There was a fraction of a smile in her eyes and I realized in an instant, she wasn’t asking for a hug, she was giving one.

“Mom.”

I let myself sink down into the soft couch corner beside her and rested my head on hers, our blond hair commingling on the blue pillows. We exhaled at the same time.

“I need to work on an article,” I said.

“No, you don’t.”

“I also need to write a blog post.”

“No, you don’t.”

“My head still hurts.”

“I know. That’s why you need to just sit here and be a couch potato. With me.”

There is a connection between a mother and her daughter that is unique. And when the nurturer in the daughter is born, it is with a wordless tenderness.

Late night on Shrove Tuesday, my daughter had come down with severe stomach pains. They were bad enough to bring on tears, and she is not the crying type. We rushed to our hospital’s pediatric ER and spent the rest of the night there. She had many ‘firsts:’ her first IV, first ultrasound, and first MRI – as the pain, which she rated an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10 – moved from all over her belly to the lower right quadrant. If you’re guessing appendicitis, so was everyone else.

The tests were all inconclusive, but thankfully, the pain was gradually subsiding by Wednesday afternoon. It seemed to be some weird viral issue. She could go home under the condition that she should return if things got worse or a fever developed. As it turned out, the slight, residual pain would last a few more days, and my mothering eyes didn’t rest until my daughter seemed fully herself once again.

I make it sound like it was all bad, don’t I? It wasn’t.

Ever since I acknowledged my dependence on God so many years ago, I carry within my soul an abiding sense of peace that doesn’t waver, even when circumstances make my mind wander into a land of worry and concern.

So when I pray, the two – mind and soul – are both at work. With my mind, I address the One I know is my ever-ready and ever-present help.

Watching needles going into my daughter’s veins….

Lord, steady her. Please relieve her pain.

As I saw her organs flash across a screen, images in black and white…

Please Lord, help this radiologist to find the problem.

And from my soul, words of praise and hope sometimes bubble up spontaneously. While standing next to the MRI, holding my daughter’s hands, extended above her head as she tried to remain still, my heart and soul sang the songs of my childhood.

Father, I adore You
Lay my life before you
How I love you

I didn’t know what the diagnosis would be, but I had faith that God was there.

He was there in the consoling words of the nurse who made my daughter smile as she put in the IV; in the kindness of the staff who brought us warm blankets so we could try to sleep; and in the gentle eyes of the doctor who listened carefully to the story of my own appendectomy and readily admitted that yes, appendicitis runs in families, so I had every reason to be suspicious when my daughter doubled up in pain.

The goodness God gives to us through the people who cross our paths gets passed on when we give it away.

We are His hands in the world.

And sometimes, His love comes back to us in the form of a needed hug from a daughter-patient.

God is always with us, and our souls want to talk with him.

Our relationship with God depends less on what we do than on which direction we face.

Are we turned toward Him? Or away?

There’s only one place I’m meant to be. Wherever I am, that’s looking up at Him.

5 Wholesome Things I Learned in February

5 Wholesome Things I Learned in February
Photo by K. Bingel

At the end of January, I started a monthly series highlighting a few wholesome things I’d learned over past several weeks, and now I’m carrying on the new tradition.**

Why “wholesome?” Because things that are wholesome contribute to, or are associated with, a state of well-being, which is a glimpse into the kind of life we are meant to know as we walk peacefully with God.

When Jesus said, “I came that they might have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10), He gave us the promise of eternal life, but He also wanted us to know that we can enjoy the here and now. We can have some fun while we wait in hopeful expectation of God’s mercies.

So here are a few delights from February:

  1. Re-adopting a childhood habit can be a very good idea. When I was a child I read constantly. My parents had CB radios in their cars and encouraged my sister and me to have ‘handles’ just like them. Mine was “Bookworm.” So is it any wonder that I’d become an English major (well, double major of English & French), or that my not-so-secret fantasy is always to retreat to a quiet corner with a big, fat memoir? But we give so much up in adulthood, so this year I’ve made an effort to read more. A LOT more. And Anne Bogel’s podcast “What Should I Read Next” has been a big help. Her fascinating interview (#165) with James Mustich, author of 1,000 Books to Read Before You Die added another level to my self-created challenge, so I used a Bas Bleu gift certificate I received at Christmas to buy this doorstopper, which checks in at 948 pages. Having read only 95 of his suggestions, I’ve been eager to dig in. This month, I read Night by Elie Wiesel and wrote a blog post about it. In March, I’ll be reading Beryl Markham’s West With the Night and C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed. Nirvana for a bibliophile! I’ll be in a corner if you need me….
  2. A son can make his mother proud…especially when he challenges her. Early on in the month, my 16-year old son and I had our first-ever, slightly heated exchange over an issue in the national news – the wall at the southern border. We weren’t totally opposed to one another, just both expressing concerns, and before things got truly uncomfortable my husband wisely said, “Let’s just admit that no one in this room is an expert on this subject or has any firsthand knowledge. We don’t live in a directly affected area.” We both conceded immediately. Aside from the fact that it was fascinating to see my son’s critical thinking skills in play, what impressed me more was the question he threw out to me just before my husband stepped in: “Mom, what are your sources?” I was stunned with shock and pride. Thank God for bright young minds who are considering the sources of information, and checking their credibility and trustworthiness. Carry on young people, carry on.
  3. The latest food fad – avocado toast – is actually pretty good. My husband went on a business trip to NYC and had breakfast in a place with limited offerings. He ended up eating avocado toast, which was – as you’d imagine – avocado spread on toast – and, with a little twist on the obvious, a lightly poached egg. Surprise, surprise – he found it tasty and we replicated it at home. Now I’m buying 7 avocados a week and our daughter is making avocado toast for after-school snacks every day. There are certainly worse things.
  4. The “good camera” is still worth using. In one of this month’s blog posts, Study Birds and Turtles – Or How to Love in Life’s Mundane Moments, I featured a photo of me and my oldest son when he was about 18 months. It was taken with a Nikon N70 back when that was still an expensive camera. We bought it used, and it was worth every penny. Today, we’re all taking pictures with our phones and the quality seems alright most of the time, but when I found this particular shot my heart fluttered. I could see so clearly every detail of my son – even the little curl at the back of his head. I remembered a friend’s recent comment, “Twenty years from now I might regret not making the effort to get out the nice camera and take better pictures.” Indeed. My intention for March is look ahead two decades, and then do what I think Future Me would appreciate.
  5. I learned new ways to pray. I began the month on a weekend retreat with fellow mothers from my son’s all-boys Jesuit high school. In fact, one of those moms took the photo I used in this post at sunset on the second day. In our fellowship together, my prayer life was strengthened in two ways: First, I was taught a new way to pray the Rosary. The Scriptural Rosary incorporates a verse of scripture between each Hail Mary; it helped me to focus more clearly on the mystery of Christ’s life contemplated in each decade. You can order the book we used here on Amazon. Second, I learned the Suscipe, a prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola incorporated into his Spiritual Exercises. I loved it enough to place it in a frame on my desk where I can offer the words to the Lord daily. I leave it here with you in closing.

May God bless you and keep you in March, and may you enjoy fullness of joy in your walk with Him.

Suscipe

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding,
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.

You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
that is enough for me.

-St. Ignatius of Loyola

**This post contains affiliate links, and I will be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on my links.

How’s Your New Year’s Activism Going?

How’s Your New Year’s Activism Going?
Witness by Ariel Burger and Night, by Burger’s teacher, Professor Elie Wiesel.

Are you an activist? Is activism something you do – or observe?

Last night I finished Night by Elie Wiesel. It’s a short book I meant to read for years, and I put it off out of selfish knowledge that its contents would rattle me. And they did, because every word is true. I felt physically ill. I don’t remember the last time I read something this painful, powerful, important, or necessary.

In the very unlikely case you’ve never heard of it – Night is a harrowing first-person account of survival in the Nazi death camps. Taken – along with his family and the entire Jewish community of Sighet, Transylvania – to Auschwitz, Elie Wiesel recounts with lucidity, humility, and eloquence the unforgettable anguish of passing through hell and leaving behind every person he had ever loved. Deeply observant, this Jewish teenager faced a prolonged dark night of the soul unimaginable to most. I defy anyone with a heart to read this book and remain unmoved.

You will read Night and feel bereft. But there is a mighty epilogue. Elie Wiesel was much more than a survivor. Before his passing in 2016, he wrote 40 books (both fiction and nonfiction), was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the U.S. Congressional Gold Medal, the French Legion of Honor, and most notably, in 1986, the Nobel Peace Prize. He taught Humanities at Boston University for nearly 40 years.

In conjunction with Night, I recently devoured a sort-of primer on moral education – Witness: Lessons from Elie Wiesel’s Classroom by Ariel Burger, who was a student of and later an assistant to, Elie Wiesel in Boston. It’s the next best thing to being in Professor Wiesel’s classes, pondering eternally significant questions such as, “How can we make the world a more compassionate place?”

Which brings me back to the whole point of this post – the steps we take after we are consumed with sadness and fury over the injustices in the world.

In his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech, Professor Wiesel said he had faith. “Faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and even in His creation. Without it no action would be possible. And action is the only remedy to indifference, the most insidious danger of all.” (emphasis mine)

To sit on our hands and do nothing when we are outraged is to fuel evil’s fire.

We may feel powerless, but we are not.

“Walt, a retired academic dean who [had] attended Wiesel’s classes for over a decade, [said], ‘My problem is, I do something small, write a check or something, and I feel better. I don’t want to feel better; I want to hold on to the outrage so I can do more. How do I do that?’

[Wiesel replied,] ‘The question is, how real are other people to you? Do you feel their suffering?…We can feel overwhelmed….And you can remain asleep to others’ pain. We need to find a balance between sleep and paralysis. Start with one person. A person is not an abstraction – we must be against abstraction. Six million pairs of shoes taken from children in the camps are a statistic; one is a tragedy.

But don’t just write a check; help them somehow with your own effort, your own energy. Buy them food and bring it to them. Help them find shelter. Speak to them, take the time to really speak and listen. Who will listen to them? We must be the ones who do. This means that your feelings of anxiety or calm, your presence or lack thereof for another person, your smile at a fellow human being or your turning away, your feeling overwhelmed and how you manage that – all of these little, internal things contribute somehow to the destiny of the world.’” (Witness, p. 176)

We cannot live lives of vicarious righteousness. We must step out and take action wherever we see a need. Big steps. Small steps. Forward steps.

So I ask you, and I ask myself, “How I am doing this new year, living an activist’s life? Am I obeying the daily, divine call to love?”

Am I feeding the hungry? Clothing the naked? Giving shelter? Speaking up – loudly – for the defenseless and oppressed?

Am I listening without judgment to the person who suffers from addiction? Am I offering compassion to the one who is sick, the one whose marriage is failing, the one whose child is estranged, and the one who has lost his job? Do I give rapt attention to the one who talks aimlessly because she’s been lonely for ages?

Who will welcome these battered hearts, if not me?

Am I asking God for help in discerning my next steps, and am I willing to accept that I am part of a greater whole, and that because God so loved the entire world, I must as well?

Or am I avoiding pain, because getting involved might cost me something?

These are questions for the would-be activist. Questions for you and me.

“We know that every moment is a moment of grace, every hour an offering; not to share them would mean to betray them,” wrote Elie Wiesel.

So – how are we doing?

Are We Eating Enough Humble Pie?

Are We Eating Enough Humble Pie?

Photo by Liana Mikah on Unsplash

Humble pie. An old-fashioned phrase. Makes me think of a picnic in springtime, a checkerboard tablecloth, and someone joyriding through a forest in a horse-drawn wagon. That person thinks he’s king of the world. He’s showing off but all-too-soon he hits a rock, is catapulted from his dinky wooden seat, and with arms and legs flailing catches air and unceremoniously lands in a huge puddle. Mud covers him from head to toe.

Don’t ask me where I got this visual. I have no idea. But when people say, “He’s too big for his britches,” something along these lines comes to mind.

What is humility, exactly?

In modern parlance, we’ve wrongly accepted it as having low self-esteem. It’s not that.

Merriam-Webster’s defines it as the quality or state of not being proud or haughty. To be humble is also to rank low in a hierarchy or scale. To be unpretentious.

Note that these definitions do not indicate intrinsic value. You can be a cog in the wheel of a large organization, but if doing your job enables others to get theirs done too, you’re not exactly worthless, are you?

My grandfather used to say he was a “peanut” when he described his career as an engineer at Boeing in Seattle, WA. A former WWII pilot and instructor, he was extremely bright and capable, and held a variety of positions which relocated his family a handful of times over the years. But no matter how much I admired his work, his perspective was different. He’d grown up in the Great Depression, and lived apart from his mom for seven years on a small farm outside of Vancouver, WA with his father and sister, while his mother provided income as washer woman in Seattle. She sent money down to her family every time she got a paycheck. He never forgot arriving at that farm house for the very first time and realizing that the only running water came through a rough, open pipe over the kitchen sink, fed by a trickling local stream. Though the amenities did improve, prolonged family separation – not by choice but by necessity – and hard times, left marks. He never took blessings for granted. Instead, he took the opportunities he was given and used them to serve others. He always gave others credit and downplayed his own contributions. He was holding all things in proper perspective, the way a truly humble person navigates life.

So it made sense to me, sitting at his memorial service, that here was a man who had spent his life making kind overtures. Yes, he helped feed and clothe the homeless through his church, and volunteered countless hours to manage the books for community groups. But another thing he did really struck me.

In his later years, he joined a yacht club and rose ‘through the chairs’ to become Commodore. At the end of the monthly members’ meeting, he had a personal tradition of “Naming the House.” Starting on one side of the room and making his way around, he would say the name of every person present, and if there was enough time, also the name of his/her spouse and their boat. At any meeting, there might be as many as 200 people present.

This is notable for a few reasons:

First, what a memory! Keeping his mind sharp was always important to him, but he must have spent days studying the roster. It shows a level of dedication to his organization that I believe most leaders don’t have.

Second, he was looking at each person as he said their name and relayed information pertinent to that person’s life. How often do we tell others that they are seen? That we know them? That we care who they are?

And finally, he was not doing this to show off or to elevate himself above his fellow members. He did it because he fully understood that once his term was up, he would reassume his place in the crew. Despite the fancy uniform and podium he was speaking from – he was – essentially – just like them, and he valued each of them for who they were individually. His heart was in serving them. He knew that each person was important – a valued member – and he wanted them to know that he would never forget a single one.  

This how God sees us.

He looks upon us with tremendous love – boundless affection – and says, “I know you. Every part of you. And in my leadership, I will never forget you.”

To show us that he understands, He sent us Himself in Jesus. Fully man, and fully divine, a person who was similarly tested in all ways, but remained without sin. (Hebrews 4:15) God “gets” us.

True humility on our part is recognizing our rightful place in the world, which is neither less than nor greater than any other human being, but bowing only toward the One Who is.

How does this thought strike you? Is it strange? Foreign? Liberating?

Our intrinsic value is not defined by our position. It is not related to our income, connections, careers, or even our bad habits.

We were created in love by the One Who cradles us in the palm of His hand and calls us Beloved. This is where we find our true worth. 

This kind of humble pie is Truth. And it’s deliciously filling.

Study Birds and Turtles – Or How to Love in Life’s Mundane Moments

Study Birds and Turtles – Or  How to Love in Life’s Mundane Moments
Me and my first-born at the National Zoo many years ago.

How do you love those closest to you in life’s mundane moments? Those times when all you see are the remains of everyday life and the residue bugs you…Toothpaste stuck to the sides of the sink. Towels in crumpled heaps on the floor. Crumbs all over the countertop.

When our first child – a boy – was still an ‘only’, my husband and I took him on regular visits to the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. We had high hopes that our son would embrace our love of animals – all the same majestic beasts of power I admired (like the great cats), and the intelligence and antics of the creatures my husband favored (such as the primates and the otters). Instead, we often found ourselves wandering around the Bird House or lingering beside a pond of lily pads as eternal minutes dragged on. But these locales were positively scintillating for our son. He was mesmerized by the tiniest of brown birds, the plainest of turtles sitting motionless on its mini-island rock in the center of a lagoon.

I couldn’t understand it until my husband made the wise observation, “These animals are small. Closer to his size. They’re easier for him to study and appreciate.”

It was true. While we may be attracted by the bright, colorful, and bold, it’s more often the case that passionate love for a creature, person, place, or anything else develops in a slower, more nuanced way. We connect with what seems within reach – with what we understand – starting from the outside and exploring within. Once there, we bridge the gap, allowing our hearts to grow stronger in affection for that which we have come to esteem.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote, “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,” but even she knew her sonnet would inadequately describe love of a person – the greatest experience known to man this side of heaven.

“I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace….
and, if God choose, I shall love thee better after death.”

-Sonnet 43

It takes a lifetime and beyond to fully value an individual, doesn’t it?

When we truly stretch ourselves to love the entirety of another person, accepting him or her as a unique and irreplaceable gift, we experience a taste of the vastness of God.

But most days, we are blind to the divine glory of our loved ones.

We get tired. We fuss and fidget over our to-dos. We become automatons in the stress and hustle of our world. And in the modern age, we stare blankly and numbly at our screens, scrolling past the myriad faces of people who don’t play significant roles in our lives.

Why? Why are we wasting this precious time?

God’s grace – as evidenced by the immense creativity across the depth of the people we love – is there for the knowing, if only we would look up and SEE.

Post-Valentine’s Day, I would encourage us all to recommit ourselves to the study and appreciation of the people closest to us. The ones who really matter.

Memorize the feel of your child’s hair under your palm. Fix your beloved’s smile in your mind’s eye. Etch the echoes of voices you treasure on your heart.

Listen. Not to just the words, but to the yearning to be understood that lies behind the words.

Love never ends, but opportunities to see it shimmering like dewfall in life’s most mundane moments – do.

Let’s not rely on a holiday to savor the beauty of our valentines. Today is as perfect a day as any.

Our First Valentine’s Day We Did A Few Things Right …And You Can Do Them Too

Our First Valentine’s Day We Did A Few Things Right …And You Can Do Them Too
Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash

Late in February 2016, Grandma and I were talking alone in her living room when I spotted a vase of flowers on a side table and said they were pretty.

“Grandpa gave them to me for Valentine’s Day,” she said. “They were a week late.”

My mouth started to form into a surprised ‘O’ as she looked me square in the eye and added with a giggle, “Don’t tell him.”

When you love someone – as she had him for more than 74 years – you forgive them their faults and oversights. You become increasingly willing to bear all things. Endure all things. Seek your own interests less.

We know this. Writ large or very, very small, in one way or another we have all experienced love, and our souls yearn endlessly to find the consummate, unending experience of it, where we are fully caught up – cherished and known – by the One who has loved us perfectly from the very beginning of our creation.

As St. Paul so eloquently explains at the end of his definition of love, “At present, I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known. So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:12-13)

Love is without question – the greatest.

And it can be passionate, expansive, life-giving, and life-transforming.

But…

When Valentine’s Day rolls around and pictures of cherubs and candy hearts are everywhere…Well, I don’t know about you, but most years, I’m not really feeling it. I want to celebrate the holiday about as much as I want to hang wallpaper from a ceiling.

That is, until I re-frame the picture and consider HOW it is I’m called to love my beloved.

My husband and I have been married for 20 years, but I probably did the best job selecting a Valentine’s Day gift for him on our very first Feb. 14th together.

We’d only been dating for about 3 weeks, riding around in his battered Geo Prizm, which he’d bought just after college graduation. I chatted with my very new boyfriend about our entry-level jobs and trying to live cheaply in D.C., and came to understand that we were alike, working hard to prove our worth. There was little time or attention paid to things like a car’s interior.

And while sitting in the passenger seat, I noticed two knobs were missing from his car’s climate controls – one for air and the other for temperature. This didn’t seem to bother him; he just used his fingers to turn what was left of the plastic tube inside each space to make necessary changes. But I wondered…

So, shortly before Valentine’s Day I walked into the local Geo dealership’s parts and service department and explained the situation.

“I don’t suppose you would have these knobs, would you?” I asked sheepishly of a guy in a royal blue baseball cap. He looked in the stockroom and returned with two black pieces wrapped in clear cellophane bags.

“That will be $6.00,” he said, grinning. I dug a five and a one out of my purse, dazzled by the serendipity of the moment.

That Valentine’s Day, my brand-new boyfriend sent me a dozen long-stem roses at my office and took me to dinner in Georgetown. He went the BIG and impressive route, and I went absolutely gaga. I felt like royalty.

And for him?

I told him to close his eyes and hold out his hands, and when I pressed a small plastic knob into each one, he whooped with joy and hugged me tight. I could be wrong, but I don’t think he’s ever again responded with such enthusiasm to a gift.

As I look back now, I see that first February as foundational in our relationship, because we had mysteriously figured out HOW to love one another well.

My husband gave openly and generously. Consequently – I felt cherished.

I noticed a need in his life and filled it. Consequently – he felt known.

Without planning it, both of us focused our efforts on meeting one of two core human desires: 1) to be cherished and 2) to be known.

Now yes, I admit, we were dating. The endorphins were on full blast. Everyday life isn’t quite the same.

But what we did then by happenstance, anyone can do today with intention.

We can all ask for divine guidance to love as God intends – unselfishly, with hope and endurance.

We can all learn to open our hearts to what’s new – what’s there for us to appreciate right in the moment.

My husband still gives me flowers, and I still feel honored and adored every time he does. And I continue to notice things about him. To me, he smells of sunshine in warm, spring woods. He always asks if the dogs and kids have been fed before dishing up his own plate.

Over two decades, we have learned the fundamentals of love and continue to practice them as best we can. The sustained efforts add up, little by little, day by day.

As I said, with the help of Providence, anyone can love like this, because we are wired for love. Created for it by Love Himself.

Love means caring more about the other person than you do about yourself. It means taking note. It means embracing. It means acceptance.

How does all this translate into a Valentine’s Day gift for my husband?

That’s for me to know, and him to find out, but I doubt I’ll ever find a better one than two plastic knobs.

5 Wholesome Things I Learned in January

5 Wholesome Things I Learned in January

Wholesome. I love this word. It means anything suggestive of good health and well-being. It has a connotation of warmth and nourishment, virtue and pure intentions.

I’ve decided that for 2019, I’m going to end each month sharing with you 5 things that I found to be wholesome, because to paraphrase Philippians 4:8 – we are to dwell on the things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good repute, excellent, and worthy of praise. In short – those things that contribute to the fullness of life that God intends for us. **

I know – that sounds pretty lofty. I’m not aiming for grandiose ideas, just everyday things I encountered that were notable, enriching, and/or helpful in some way.

So, here we go. FIVE wholesome things I learned in January.

  1. If a woman can’t have her family with her 24-7, the next best thing is a beautifully framed photo of the people she loves. I’m rather picky about photo printing. Now that film has gone the way of the dinosaurs, it’s hard to find a shop that delivers prints with true-to-life color. For years I have been looking for an online company producing premium-quality prints, and recently a friend suggested Mpix.com. This month, I chose from a nice selection of mats and frames to create a birthday present for my mom – a gorgeous, ready-to-hang 8 x 10 framed photograph of her two girls and 4 grandchildren that was taken last spring at my youngest son’s First Communion celebration. She cried when she got it. First-time customers get 25% off for sharing an email address. Check it out.
  2. The most important sentence we can say just might be: “Tell me more about that.” Jonathan Fields says this a lot when encouraging his guests to continue in the podcast that’s got me completely hooked – Good Life Project. The premise of the show is that every story matters, and Fields’s guests are purpose-driven, community-oriented individuals who have meaningfully processed both personal and professional issues. I’ve only been listening for about two months, but in January, I was gripped by conversations Fields had with Brene Brown, Bronnie Ware (author of The Top 5 Regrets of the Dying), and Mark Nepo (author of More Together Than Alone: Discovering the Power and Spirit of Community in Our Lives and the World). I also loved that my youngest son happened to hear the story of Maggie Doyne – a young woman who took a gap year after high school, only to find her passion in caring for orphans in Nepal and collaborated on the formation of a Nepali school, health clinic, and foundation for 350 children. Good Life Project. It’s good food for thought.
  3. The memoir Educated, by Tara Westover, is going to become a modern classic. If you haven’t heard of it, I’m surprised, but before long you will, because it’s an unforgettable story of a girl from a survivalist family in Idaho who is barely home-schooled, yet manages to teach herself enough to enter Brigham Young University and then Cambridge and Harvard, all while trying to negotiate unspeakably complex ties between herself and the people who love her in profound and profoundly unhealthy ways. Like all great writers, Tara Westover has a gift for drawing connections between the visible world and its invisible undercurrents, crafting electrifying sentences like these: “I had come to believe that the ability to evaluate many ideas, many histories, many points of view, was at the heart of what it means to self-create. If I yielded now, I would lose more than an argument. I would lose custody of my own mind.” (p. 304)
  4. Fermented goat’s milk from Answers Pet Food is healing my dog. I have two canines – Luna and Seamus. Luna is a Beagle with a host of allergy issues and she’s been suffering from a cough for months that comes and goes in intensity. We’ve been working with our vet to uncover the root cause, but three weeks ago a nutritionist friend suggested I try adding a natural probiotic – raw fermented goat’s milk – to her diet to help support healthy immune function. The fermentation process increases digestive enzymes, b-vitamins, antioxidants and lactic acid, and it’s been working. Luna is still congested in the mornings, but the cough is basically gone. Cheers to improvement in the lives of our fur-babies!
  5. Handwritten thank-you notes warm the soul. Okay – so maybe I didn’t really learn this one this month, but I received three very nice notes in January that are worth mentioning here, if only to say that when you take the time to tell someone that what they did for you touched your heart, you WILL touch theirs too. We are so glib with our thank-yous these days. Putting pen to paper and expressing gratitude in a few thoughtful phrases means so very much. Consider how it feels to read, “You are a treasured friend,” “You are truly amazing and appreciated,” “I treasure the bond that we have and thank God for you regularly,” “Thank you SO much for thinking of me.” For February – let’s go and put more encouraging words out there in the world.

That’s it for January’s wholesome list! I appreciate your reading time more than you will ever know, and I’d love to hear what you’re learning too. Email me via the “Contact” link on my home page. Peace and blessings in February!

**This post contains affiliate links, and I will be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on my links.

What’s Your Focus Word for 2019?

What’s Your Focus Word for 2019?

Do you have a focus word for 2019?

Focus words are intended to help us reframe our goals. We want to make the new year count, right? We want it to matter. So we find words that we hope will help us to do that.

Our chosen “word of the year” could take us in any direction. Consider the following suggestions I found on thegoalchaser.com: belong, calm, cultivate, declutter, embody, gratitude, habit, immerse, laughter, learn.

The possibilities are endless.

In years past my words have been ‘listen’ and ‘believe,’ though I admit, I stopped paying attention to my focus word sometime around the middle of February. This year, I hope it will be different.

Sunday, my word emerged in conversation.

I was in the cereal aisle of a grocery store trying to pick out a flavor of Special K without disturbing the woman who was standing in front of the shelves. She was lost in thought, her cart motionless before her.

“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry! I’m in your way!” she said when she noticed me.

“No! No, it’s fine. I don’t really know what I want anyway. I’ve got my list here, but my mind’s wandered far off it now.” I smiled and looked into her deep brown eyes.

She nodded, frowned slightly, and gazed down at her purse on the cart’s little seat. “I haven’t even pulled my list out,” she said, “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

There are times when strangers become intimates for no apparent reason. It happened just then. She looked into the middle distance between us and said,

“My husband wanted me to leave the house so he could watch the Ravens game.”

Then her eyes met mine.

“You know?”

I pursed my lips and said with care and an effort toward steadiness,

“We all carry burdens. Especially women. It’s like we haul around a bundle of concerns behind us all the time.”

I immediately wished I hadn’t added that last part – about women. Because men have worries too. All of us have ‘junk’ that affects us in ways we wish it wouldn’t.

I had no idea (of course) what had transpired between her and her husband. Perhaps he had spoken very harshly to her. Or perhaps he had suggested she do something for herself and she misinterpreted his meaning. Regardless, her face conveyed hurt and a need for compassion. She jumped on what I’d said, and that was alright, because whatever had happened, my words had met her heart right where it was.

“Yes!” she smiled with relief. “We should have tea sometime and talk about it!”

I nodded and smiled again, trying to wordlessly reassure this stranger that it was fine to have confided in me – a fellow traveler on the road of life.

“Go easy now,” I added, “Go gently today. Try to enjoy your afternoon. Ok?”

“Thank you! Thank you! I will.”

And she pulled away, breathing in and out a little more deeply as she left.

Did you catch my word of the year?

It was whispered to me as I prayed a couple weeks ago.

The word is – Gently.

I was preaching to her because I was preaching to myself.

For 2019, I need to be more gentle with myself.

Let me ask you…

Do you ever get the feeling…

That you are misaligned and have lost touch with your essential self?

That you are pushed by an uncaring force that wants you to be someone you are not?

Do you speak harshly to yourself? In ways that you would NEVER speak to someone else?

Does your inner voice echo the American mantra: You MUST Do More. Try Harder. Aim Higher.?

Sometimes – oftentimes – this is me.

I believe I’m being called to consider an alternative path. A way that’s far better for me. The way I was created to walk.

Over the last few months I have been blessed with the realization that living wholeheartedly and authentically means – for me – surrendering to gentleness.

When I step back and view myself with love and tenderness, I can see that I am not much of a striver. I don’t do well when I push. I’m not wired for it. The best answers come to me in their own time. When I try to force decisions, or relationships, or creative pursuits, there are poor results. Frustrations. Migraine headaches.

And this is MORE than FINE.

So in 2019, I will try to ignore the world’s message to BE MORE. To jump into the endlessly flowing river of BUSYNESS and HUSTLE.

And instead – I will walk GENTLY through my days.

I will be more patient and kind with myself, and more peaceful with others. I hope and pray that I can learn all the beautiful facets of ‘my’ word this year.

How about you? Are you gentle with yourself? If not, feel free to adopt this word.

And if you already have another focus word, please share it with me. I would LOVE to know what it is.

4 Simple Ideas for the Happiest of New Years

4 Simple Ideas for the Happiest of New Years
Ringing in 2019 lasts all of January. It's where we set our intentions. What are yours? How will you spend this year?
Photo by Melanie Hughes on Unsplash

So, we’ve turned the corner into 2019 and none of us know what lies ahead. But I’ve been thinking there are a few things we can take from December 2018 that just might be of assistance to us in the months to come.

Here are four simple steps to creating a meaningful, rich year:

1) Do less. We’re back to work and school and other activities. But let’s not forget that some (if not all) of these “other activities” are ones we choose.

Yes, there’s grocery shopping to be done and birthdays to celebrate, but before we add another ‘to-do’ to our calendars, it wouldn’t hurt to ask: “Do I really want to _______? Am I doing it to please someone else? Out of a false obligation? Is it good and true and helpful (to me or someone in my circle), or am I doing it in a vain attempt to create a favorable impression?”

Over the holidays, I cut a few things out.

I dropped the idea of a family outing to see Christmas lights.

Didn’t force us all to attend an Advent evensong service.

Nixed my plan to make quiche on Christmas morning, since pancakes and scrambled eggs were good enough.

And the result? Less stress.

In each case, I considered my motivations and the potential benefits and chose a quieter, simpler path of peace for myself and my family.

A long time ago, a friend of my husband’s said, “I’ve been a lot happier since I stopped doing things I don’t want to do.”

Yes. Couldn’t have said it better.

2) Rest more. In the week between Christmas and New Year’s my family has done a fair amount of sleeping. I believe we all needed it. Your life and mine are probably very similar, and sleep often goes by the wayside.

But again – we can choose to make rest a priority.

It doesn’t have to mean 8 hours a night (though my experience tells me – and science backs it up – that reaching this goal consistently makes a world of difference). It DOES mean taking time out to put our feet up, read good books, snuggle with our spouses, play board games with kids, and laugh.

You probably did all of this over the holidays and felt some rejuvenation. Keep it up.

3) Spend time with loved ones. This may seem related to point number 2, but it is actually a category unto itself. In December, many of us traveled great distances to see loved ones, carved out time to spend just with them. But I wonder: How will we maintain those connections in 2019?

What if – instead of scrolling through Facebook or Instagram – we spent 20+ minutes talking to one of those special people on the phone?

What if – instead of sitting on our couches watching the Today Show or a sitcom – we had a weekly date to meet a friend for coffee or a walk in a local park?

I know where I waste time daily, and I bet you do too. Let’s choose people over technology. However much those screens add to our lives, the people we know add infinitely more, don’t they?

4) Pray and/or meditate. Did you go to a house of worship over the holidays? Why? Perhaps it was an obligation. You went because that’s what the family does. But how did you feel when you went? Even if you hated it, you went, and I would submit that’s because there’s a deep desire within each of us to connect with Something Greater.

And – I think arguing against this is a strenuous exercise in pushing back against what is.

So acknowledge your curiosity. Explore the possibility. Ask the big questions.

Give your soul the benefit of prayer or meditation. Let it reach out to see What and Who is there.

You WILL be met.

Thank you for reading this. Together, we can embrace the new year with hope and love. I pray for countless blessings for you and yours in 2019.

A Book Worthy of Your 2019

A Book Worthy of Your 2019
"True You" by Michelle DeRusha - helping you uncover your most authentic self in 2019.
“True You” by Michelle DeRusha. Available at all fine booksellers, including Amazon.

It’s early January, and as I sit next to our Christmas tree (which I don’t want to take down!), I’m considering goals for the new year and the wisdom I’ve received in reading “True You” by Michelle DeRusha. If ever there was a book about new beginnings, about starting again, this is it.


While sitting on a bench in a quiet space, a question presented itself in Michelle’s mind: “Why do you have trouble with intimacy?” (p. 45) I read the question she’d heard as an invitation, but one I personally wouldn’t want to accept. “I don’t have trouble with intimacy,” I thought, “I have good relationships.”  But then I read this gem of a book, and decided I could use some more spiritual pruning in this area.


By likening the process of spiritual growth and a closer relationship with God to the Japanese gardening technique of “open center pruning,” through which a tree’s most beautiful elements are retained and all that detracts from it are cut away, Michelle takes her readers on a voyage of discovery and reflection. She encourages the routine practice of sitting quietly and listening carefully for God’s voice. Bigger and more powerful than our wildest dreams, God has planned a fullness of life for us, unhindered by our egotistical desires or our inclinations toward idols. These things separate us from the person God created us to be. By allowing ourselves to be “openly pruned” we can find our truest selves. 


Each chapter features thoughtful reflection questions to help us uncover the myths we tell ourselves, and to move our souls toward deeper friendship with God, who wants only the best for us. As we honestly consider our values and motivations (both good and bad), we participate in our own journey of healing. Michelle understands this discovery process is hard, and shares her own anecdotes and observations to confirm our experiences as we go. “[I]n spiritual transformation, as in gardening,” she writes, “there is no fast and easy remedy. There is only patience, perseverance, and faith in the process” (p. 164). Our efforts and willingness to open ourselves to God’s love and mercy is rewarded by God’s revelation of our gifts, and the life-changing realization of our real identity.


“Your identity comes not from what you do, but from who you are in God,” she affirms (p. 194). Figuring out who we are in God is life’s most worthwhile endeavor, and I encourage you to start on this process of discovery for yourself with the help of this enchanting, approachable book as a guide. Michelle DeRusha found a richer, more meaningful life, and I believe you will, too. 


*I received an Advance Reader Copy from Baker Books in return for my honest review. Pick up your copy of “True You” here on Amazon.