Simply Soul Searching

There’s a puzzling attitude in our apartment complex that I’ve named, “apartment apathy.” Pet clean-up stations are conveniently scattered all around our campus, but on my morning walks I see lots of piles. Some of them are less than fifteen feet away from these stations! I once even picked up a bag with a mess in it. (Why would one go so far as to bag the mess, but not place it in a waste can?)

I have a new appreciation for the people I see cleaning up after their dogs.  Their actions tell me that they care about others and that they take responsibility for the messes that have been made. I see them as concerned about the well-being of all, including me, as stewards of our complex and community.

And so I was thinking about the other messes in our lives. There are the messes of strained relationships and broken hearts… the messes of wounds caused by our lack of empathy, understanding, or compassion… the messes of impatient reactions and hastily spoken words… the messes of selfishness and pride. As people of faith, we try to avoid making “messes” as much as possible- but we are never going to be perfect. We will create our own messes in spite of good intentions.

Maybe our best loving witness is to acknowledge that we are imperfect, mess-making people of faith, and then begin cleaning up those messes! We are the caretakers of one another and of our world. One of our most visible and tangible ways of loving others is to sincerely, humbly work to restore wholeness and goodness for them, as much as possible.

But cleaning up is the difficult task, isn’t it? Messes are, well, messy. Uncomfortable. Unpleasant. Embarrassing. Humbling. We’d much rather walk away and let someone else deal with them. We might even acknowledge them (like putting them in bags) and tell God that we’re sorry, but then leave the clean-up unfinished. At times we may deny our responsibility: “I didn’t make that mess!” Or we try to justify ourselves, claiming that at least our mess isn’t as bad those other ones.

But when we actually DO the challenging work of restoration and healing, our genuine love is visibly revealed. When we take the extra steps to correct the wrongs we have done. When we restore a relationship by admitting we were wrong, asking for forgiveness, and repairing the damage. When we refrain from kicking back or seeking revenge. When we even clean up other messes we encounter, whether or not they belong to us. When we humbly work to restore our relationships or our world to their original beauty- or even better.

Mess happens. How we respond is our chance to demonstrate our love for humanity and for all of God’s creation.

I think it was my dad who once said, “Always leave a place better than you found it.” May this be our faithful work- in our homes, our communities and our world.

I glimpse your bright splendor in the morning sunrise.

I calm in your surprising peace during difficult times.

I smile at your joy in the unique beauty of each flower.

I hear your reassuring voice in the stillness of the night.

I marvel at your healing touch on this weary soul.

I notice your gentle nudges that move me to action.

I relish your inspiration shared through gifted artists and musicians.

I praise your unconditional acceptance with the imperfect song of my heart.

I feel your mercy and grace with every tear of recognition of my failures.

I anticipate my future with the hope found in your promises.

I grow in trust with every experience of your unfailing, constant presence.

I humble in your magnificence as I consider the universe; my smallness within it.

I bask in the warmth of your love radiating through spouse, family, friends.

I love you.

And oh, how I know you love me…

and yet this is but a tiny revelation

of your complete and infinite love

that is still to come, forever and always.

Since my time with cancer, I consider every day a bonus day; a day to be savored and lived abundantly. This has increased my mindfulness about daily living as well as my awareness of cherished moments. Recently I’ve noticed that many of my daily routines and habits have now become sacred rituals for me. Gratitude has made my daily living more holy and precious. Here are some of my sacred rituals I’ve noticed throughout the day. I hope these thoughts bring you joy- and also help you to discover the daily routines that may become your sacred rituals, savored with a thankful heart.

I love…

to awaken each morning by slowly stretching under warm and cozy flannel sheets

to drink a tall glass of water with lemon to be refreshed and re-hydrated each morning

to breathe in the aroma of freshly brewing coffee as we begin our day

to savor the taste of my hot coffee as it warms me and perks up my senses

to observe the peacefulness of the softly glowing candle on my desk

to open my journal to the fresh blank page that beckons me to begin

to write with any comfortable pen with smoothly flowing ink

to admire the orange glow on the trees outside my window as the sun rises

to sip my second cup of coffee with Jim as we read our daily meditation and pray

to walk outdoors and breathe in the fresh, brisk air

to listen to a variety of music on my iPod as I walk; for inspiration, comfort or motivation

to  notice the steam rise from glistening, frost-covered cars in the morning sunlight

to gaze into that deep teal blue of the sky on rare clear mornings

to save the best view at the top of the hill for the last leg of my walking route

to sing under the refreshing feel of a hot shower

(or to soak in a relaxing lavender bath)

to contemplate in quiet solitude at my writing desk

to enjoy the clean smell of warm clothes from the dryer and to fold laundry into neat piles

to decorate with a few items that bring me joy, special gifts from my loved ones

to drive to the school at 2:00 each day to take my grandsons home

to see their dear faces as they head my way

to hear their chattering voices and the stories they share

to treat them to “Monday Fun-day” ice cream at the beginning of each week

to help with homework, which has become a special bonding time with each of them

to receive each text, message or call from friends and loved ones

to return to our warm apartment and to hug my Honey

to smell the delicious dinner cooking on the stove

to share conversation over sparkling water before dinner

to call my mom each evening to exchange our “I love yous” and “goodnights”

to ponder the bright, full moon (so humbling) on a clear, cold night

to don my flannel pajamas and cuddle socks before making a cup of herbal tea

to read a good book as we wind down at the end of the day

to be comforted by the rhythmic sound of our clock ticking through the night

to say “goodnight” to the love of my life, to be thankful for another day with him

to thank God for yet another bonus day before closing my eyes to sleep

When I began playing the guitar, my fingertips were quite sore from pressing down the strings until calluses finally developed. Although I didn’t like the way my hands felt, the calluses helped me to play without pain. After walking too many miles in ill-fitting shoes, I was also relieved when a painful blister eventually formed into a callus. Our calluses become thick, protective layers to help us do habitual tasks repeatedly. Calluses benefit us by reducing our pain, thus helping us to continue doing what we do.

But sometimes we build up calluses where they don’t belong; places where they aren’t helpful, but harmful: in our spirits or souls. We are born with tender hearts and gentle countenances, but over time these can become callused by challenging life experiences, painful wounds and hurts, taught biases and beliefs, and jaded perspectives resulting from any of them. We build up soul calluses to protect ourselves from additional pain or injury, and perhaps even from any new challenge or discovery. Our soul calluses prevent our additional pain- but may also prevent our growth and change. Our calluses cause our callousness.

I recall a precious time when I was talking with a woman who was fostering a baby girl. This little child had been so neglected that she no longer cried. The foster mom told me of her deep joy when she finally heard this tiny baby cry for the first time! The poor child’s soul had become callused because of neglect, and the foster parent had to lovingly, gently soften and restore her tender heart.

As I consider my 60 years of experiences, wounds and lessons, I hope I have gained wisdom. But what have I lost? Have I built up calluses in my soul that keep me repeatedly thinking the same ideas- or feeling the same perspectives- without questioning them? There are so many needs all around me; where am I no longer feeling pain that I should be feeling? Am I able to look at the world with wide-eyed wonder, to see the possibilities of living together in harmony, to have the courage to work for justice, equality and compassion for all? Or have I become too jaded, too self-protecting, or too fearful? Where are there calluses on my soul that prevent me from being God’s new creation- every day?

May my soul’s challenges, experiences, perspectives and wounds remain fresh and raw. Raw enough to keep me tenderhearted and compassionate. Fresh enough to keep me aware and ready to help others. Raw enough to become more vulnerable to the sufferings of others. Fresh enough for me to question my viewpoint as true or the way it has to be. And may I redirect any fresh, raw pain or insight into good and healing works, into suffering for and with humanity, and not just into new callus formation.

I’ve been hearing the words, “over-sensitive” being said quite often these days. It is my hope and prayer that they might be describing me.

“Finally, all of you, have unity of spirit, sympathy, love for one another, a tender heart, and a humble mind.” ~1 Peter 3:8 (NRSV, emphasis mine)

This is our first winter in West Virginia. A few weeks ago we had an inch or two of snow and our area schools dismissed students early. Classes were canceled the next day. Coming from Toledo where snow falls more often, I felt the school closings were quite unnecessary and overcautious.

I’m going to confess that I had all these inner thoughts of self-confident superiority… “Doesn’t anyone here know how to drive in the snow?” “Are West Virginians wimpy?” “I can’t believe they canceled school with this little amount.” “You call THIS snow?”

As I breezily drove to my daughter’s house to stay with my grandsons, the main streets were practically clear and dry. Yes, people surely overreact around here.

Then I came to the hill in my daughter’s neighborhood. The steep climb was icy and treacherous. The curves and slopes made driving on snow quite slippery and frightening. Brakes don’t work as well when one’s car is on an icy incline! By the time I arrived, I had to have my son-in-law park my car for me because I was quite stressed and shaky. I was vividly reminded that my experiences aren’t the same and also aren’t true for everyone, everywhere.

How often do we judge others because we aren’t aware of the hills they face every day? How often do we appreciate the lack of challenges we have had to face? Do we comprehend how often we simply have had an easier road to navigate?

I had considered myself a courageous, skilled, and experienced driver. I felt able to handle snowy conditions- until I faced the hill. Now I know I have many lessons yet to learn.

The first of which is humility.

It was a stressful, frantic morning as I prepared to host a community-wide event at our church. Anxiety grew as my morning arrangements weren’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped. My ministry colleague and friend, Darrell, saw my visible stress and quietly asked, “Would you like a non-anxious presence to walk with you?” His companionship and peaceful countenance helped me to work more efficiently and calmly. I appreciated his awareness that, while he couldn’t fix everything, he would help me most by simply NOT reacting; by NOT taking on my stress and anxiety.

Darrell’s non-anxious presence and his ability to remain this way were gifts to me that I remember all these years later.

As I work to remain cancer-free and healthy, I have learned about the work of healthy cells. Healthy cells have an ability known as contact inhibition. When a normal cell comes into contact with other cells, it knows to stop dividing (as if they tell themselves, “Okay, that’s enough, now I will just be”). Cancerous cells lose this ability. They no longer have a system in place to limit and control cell division. When they encounter other cells, they just keep growing and dividing, unabated. By nourishing my cells to remain as healthy as possible, they will be less likely to grow unchecked. My healthy cells do their best work by remaining that way!

How might we serve as healthy cells in this broken, hurting world? How often might we make a difference- by simply being a healthy example in the midst of unhealthy situations? By doing our best to refrain from taking on those unhealthy qualities that often times surround us?

To be and remain a shining light of love in the darkness of hatred.

To be and remain a word of hope in times of despair.

To be and remain a quiet refuge from an otherwise noisy world.

To be and remain a gentle embrace in a harsh and barren atmosphere.

To be and remain a kind response during an angry, volatile conversation.

To be and remain a healing balm instead of a kicking-back reactionary.

To be and remain an understanding friend in the quandary of chaos or confusion.

To be and remain a welcoming embrace for diversity amidst the demands for conformity.

To be and remain a non-anxious presence in stressful, frantic moments.

To be and remain a selfless, generous helper in a world of greed.

To be and remain that faithful companion for the journey.

To be and remain that one healthy cell.

To be the healthy, healing people God envisions us to be, and to remain that way for the good of the world.

I took advantage of this beautiful afternoon to enjoy a long walk around our apartment complex. As I meandered around the buildings and hills, I could see four elementary school children gathered at one corner of the road. They were obviously having a great time, laughing and talking as cars passed.

When I finally approached the group, I saw that they were doing those arm pumps kids love to do, hoping that passing drivers would honk their horns.

So I walked by them on the side of the road, holding my imaginary steering wheel, pushing my  imaginary horn and yelling, “Beep!” out of my imaginary window.

Their surprise turned to excitement as they asked one another, “That counts, doesn’t it?” “That counts!”

So I asked, “Oh, are you keeping track? How many do you have so far?”

They looked around at one another before one young man turned back to me and replied:

“One.”

Yesterday was a frustrating day. I’d planned to update my iPod but couldn’t get it to sync. I had plenty of time to write- but too many thoughts cluttered my mind. Words just would not flow into creative ideas. The rains poured down, so I was unable to keep my usual walking routine. Every day of life is a precious one to be used wisely and abundantly, and so I felt frustrated and discouraged. I had no sense of accomplishment at the end of the day.

But during my quiet reflection time with God this morning, my word for 2017 came to mind. Thrive. My word is thrive, NOT strive. Although strive might be an excellent word for another year, it isn’t my word- my way of being- for 2017.

My agendas and resolutions were beginning to become more of my own striving, and less about my thriving. According to the Word Thesaurus, “strive” is to endeavor, struggle, attempt, try, make every effort, or do one’s best- while “thrive” is to flourish, bloom, grow well, increase, succeed, prosper, or be healthy.

In order for a plant to thrive, the conditions for growth must be right. The seed must lie underground until the temperatures have warmed, the seed has been sufficiently nourished, and its outer shell has softened enough for the sprout to break through. If I am to thrive, I must remain dormant until I am nourished and prepared. I must refrain from forcing an early sprouting before my surroundings are conducive for growth. I must not be too eager to produce and bloom ahead of schedule. The ‘being healthy’ part of thriving is to find the necessary balance between growing and producing, or resting and receiving nourishment. I hope that I will discover the best timing for myself as I observe the seasons and timing for all of God’s creation.

Perhaps my greatest challenge this year is to know when to NOT challenge myself! Oh, this thrive word. I believe it has much to teach me!

One of the gifts of my time with cancer is that life has become more precious. As I relish these days of good health and being cancer-free, I am still quite aware that my health could change at any time. The truth is, no one knows when one’s health may change. We cannot know how long any of us will be on this earth. It’s just that those of us who have weathered serious health issues know from experience how true this is.

Yesterday as I was playing Sudoku on my cell phone, I touched the little question mark button to see how I was doing. I received the words, “Everything is okay. 36 cells to go.” I thought to myself, “Isn’t that so reassuring?” Wouldn’t this be a great button to have for life? Whenever we are feeling stressed or anxious, we could touch the button and receive these words of reassurance: “Everything is okay.”

We DO have such a help in life! God has shown us, especially through Jesus, that no matter what happens in this earthly life, “everything is okay.” God always works for good. God always takes our messes and creates beauty from them. All of our earthly deaths and losses are resurrected in new and glorious ways. I’ve seen God do this many times in my life, resurrecting the deaths and healing the losses along the way. As Julian of Norwich says, “All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”

Everything is okay.

Which brings us to this second sentence: “36 cells to go.” In Sudoku, the progress button also shows us how many cells we have to complete. But there is no progress button for life; no button that shows us how far we have to go. We have no way of knowing the remaining number of our days.

What struck me yesterday is this… while playing Sudoku, once I’ve been reassured that everything is okay, I don’t care how many cells I have left! I rarely pay attention to the number I’m given. Because I am enjoying the game, embracing its challenges, learning along the way, and working toward full completion, I find it truly doesn’t matter how much longer I have to go.

We can face each day of our earthly lives with God’s loving reassurance that everything IS okay. And having that reassurance, we can enjoy each moment of our progress through all of life- with its joys, challenges and opportunities. We can joyfully work toward our full completion, unconcerned about the number of our days.