Little Miss Sunshine

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Prayer requests for those so inclined….

This week I rushed out of the metro in DC and breezed past a dad and two young children who were at the top of the metro; he asked for money to feed his kids.  About 10 steps after I passed them my brain and heart actually “saw” them.  

The dad tired, worn and concerned—but attentive to the kids. The kids were in a stroller, guessing under the age of 5.  The youngest, a boy, strapped in.  The girl, standing in the stroller facing her dad, chatting, wearing a yellow dress.  

I stopped and actually thought, what the hell is wrong with me—it’s insanely hot, no one wants to ask for help, and it’s clear he’s worried about his kids.  How can I walk by?  I went back, handed him $20, and said “hope this helps today.” His eyes lit up and he blessed me and gave me a sincere thank you.

God,

I pray for Little Miss Sunshine in her yellow dress, her dad and brother.  Help their neighbors see them… truly see them. Wash away our disdain, judgement, and self-centeredness.

Enable us to see the person and extend humanity to them as we can… a smile, a meal, a donation, a contact, a prayer. Surround them with compassion. Connect them with programs.  Blanket them in hope. Protect them with your grace.

Amen.

Spunky

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Prayer request for those so inclined…

She randomly popped in my head in the middle of the day at work, so I called an out-of-town friend. She shared she’s getting an MRI tomorrow (after 2 mammograms and ultrasound) so doctors can get a better visual before a possible biopsy … something suspicious. We’ll call her Spunky.

God,

We take our bodies for granted; you make them amazing — and in such wonderful varieties. So, when things don’t work well or have iregularities we are at a loss… and afraid. Be with Spunky in the isolation of the MRI, the solitude of the wait, and the silent fear of the unknown future that plays out in her mind on repeat. Surround her with smart and compassionate medical professionals who communicate with clarity.

Put small joys in her path to balance her worry. Keep her centered on today through the support of loved ones. And whatever is learned and lay ahead, reassure Spunky that she will not face it alone but surrounded by faith, friends, and family.

Amen

Follow-up….

I’m “recycling” someone (and she’d be proud of me for it)…. many months ago many of you prayed for Spunky as she began her attack on breast cancer. Well, she needs some more positive energy. After a mastectomy, many months of chemo, significant sores from shingles which impacted her chemo, chemo induced early menopause — and oh, a pandemic …. she just found out she now faces 25 doses of radiation over 5 weeks (not to mention a 5-year drug treatment. She is low. Very low. And dammit, I can’t pop down several states and help.  

God,

Not gonna lie. I’m mad…frustrated…and sad that Spunky must continue on this sucky path. She wore a brave face and moved around many roadblocks. She is tired and worn out.

I know she can do this. I see the strength she has, but her mind is exhausted trying to keep her body together. Enable her to summon the core of her power and brace herself through the weeks ahead.

Absorb her pain, her loss, her irritation, her doubt, her anger. Transfer our belief to her. Perhaps lower a few hills on her journey or extend the downhill glide. Motivate her inner circle of friends to dig in deep around her as a ring of comfort. Give her some unexpected giggles. Let hope whisper in her ear. But most of all, be with her.

Amen

Murphy

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Prayer request for those so inclined…

A bestie is bringing her father home from hospice for a family-centered goodbye after years battling Parkinson disease. I’ll call her Murphy in honor of happier times in the Irish pub together.

God, we are not equipped to handle the loss that comes with deep, unconditional love. We want to help our loved one — comfort them — yet what we need, in fact, is their comfort to do this. We know peace with you is eminent and good, yet we selfishly want him here hand in hand longer, indefinitely.

As we struggle, we ask that you comfort our loved one—Murphy’s Dad. He is a wonderful man and tremendous dad, and we are grateful for his humor, his wisdom, and his candid compassion. Thank you. Shore us up so that we can be fully present for him. Be with all his care providers as they share their support, care and expertise to help so many in need. We know they’ll be a seat at your table for him, and with a tall cold one and big hearty welcome toast. In the meantime, please stay close to Murphy. She needs you.

Amen.

Rev. Whitney Fauntleroy

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Prayer request for those so inclined…  my dynamo Associate Pastor for Youth and Young Adults, Rev Whitney Fauntleroy, moved into a rehab center as part of her recovery from spinal surgery (non-cancerous tumor) that has her currently paralyzed from her chest down. She is faith filled and a believer in prayers.

God, oh God.Your call is never easy. Even when we believe and want to follow, your call is never easy. You have expectations. We also have our own expectations—of our life, our future, our plan. We expect them all to line up peacefully. Then the moment of collision occurs between your expectations and ours. Shattered reality with bruised faith and unanswered questions remain.

You soundly called Whitney, and she amplifies your message to so many young forming people, and adults alike. Her words, passion, joy of music (especially Disney), and love of shoes make her a real pastor … a relatable pastor. You now have her reforming. A new body. A new perspective. A new journey. You ask a lot of her.

As she transforms reflect back to her what she gives to others:  comfort in scripture, poignant prayers, passion against injustice, humor, and belief. Connect her family, friends, and faith community together to support her. Comfort her youth group as they struggle to process the experience. Echo our compassion through her soul so that she may call up its power on dark days of growth. Enable her to hold tight to your call and to adjust her expectations in order to see new possibilities that you have in store for her. Be with her in new and familiar ways that keep her close to you during all that lay ahead.

Amen.

Fred & Ethel

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God,

“Ethel and Fred” have a lifetime of being faithful servants to your call. One by profession as a Presbyterian minister and one as wife, mother, and community pillar–not to mention pastor’s wife (no small call on its own right). And then there’s damn cancer. Yes, we cuss. When we face something so big, dark, and scary cussing just seems to fit, or at least help convey some of the nastiness we feel about the diagnosis and treatment. Damn cancer indeed.

“Fred” faces major new round of chemo, coming off of chemo and just finishing up radiation. They feel ravaged by cancer. It’s attacked so much – from body organs to their time together and with loved ones. Their body’s are tired. Their brain’s are tired. Their spirit’s are tired.

We seek traveling mercies as they travel between local care and MD Anderson in TX. We seek continued innovation and compassion by their care providers and cancer researchers. We seek comfort and pain reduction for “Fred.” We seek fortitude and moral support for “Ethel.”

Keep their connection to you strong… it’s been their foundation all along their journey. Show mercy. Share joy. Spread hope. Let them see these gifts of light for themselves and in others; that the community you built surrounds them with grace, prayers, and love in such darkness.

Most of all we ask for peace in their hearts. That they feel the warmth of assurance that even in doubt and darkness you are there.

Amen.

Chiquita

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Prayer request for those so inclined…

God,

I must say, woman to woman, that I’m pretty pissed at the moment and shoveling in coping munchies like a champ. Cancer. Once again, fucking cancer.

You know Chiquita. She speaks to you regularly. She speaks of you regularly. She is your sheep… and also a sheep herder bringing faith in you, through word and deed, to so many. But damn, cancer.

So much is unknown but fear abound with words like “spread into lymph nodes,” “non-surgical,” “chemo,” and “help you live with it.” Live with it? Cancer? Not the Buddy anyone wants hanging around.  

I, and so many of Chiquita’s family and friends—which includes 2 high school aged children—seek your strength, compassion, and comfort for her. Fortify her faith. Silence her fear. Steady her mind.

As a former reporter she seeks answers, gracefully grant them. As a nurse who prefers to give care, help her see that her caring doesn’t end when we care for her. As a networker who seeks to foster relationships, surround her with a ripple of love from near and far.

For her care team… preciseness, patience, and positivity. It’s what she would do.

For her family… help with traditions, safety to live in a frightening space, and connections who demonstrate hope.

But most of all, fortify her faith through acts known and unknown that keep her bound to you…. along with some thrilling moments worthy of a Chiquita!

Amen.

My Angel, Sparkle Weathered by Life

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As a preacher’s kid (and now also a preacher’s sister) angels have always been a part of my life. First the angel choir with white robes and tinsel halos. Later with my line in in the church play, “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever,” as an ornery kid playing an angel in the school’s pageant assertively commanding:  “For unto you a child is born!” wearing pink Chuck Taylor Converse high tops. Oh so many church hymns with angel references such as “Angels We Have Heard on High.” Then each 5:30pm Christmas Eve service, my dad pulled a chair down from the pulpit, welcomed all the wiggly kids, and read a children’s story, often from Katherine Paterson’s “Angles and Other Strangers.”

As a kid the angels always seemed to glow, sparkle, and be jubilant. A mix of magic, wonder, and joy. As a grown up, I’ve found a better angelic image:  The nearly 60 year old angel that sits on top of my parent’s tree that has a remarkable semblance to Phyllis Dillard. This angel perches atop the tree always a bit askew – sometimes looking like she rushed into position and other times as if she had one to many mimosas. Her blond hair with that fresh just rolled out of bed style. She has stains on her robe… I’m guessing chocolate. She is missing a hand and her wings have a permanent tilt from I think, flying around in circles with a crazy Christmas “to do” list.

Why this angel? She is an authentic angel. My angel represents my kind of faith – sparkle weathered by life. My angel reflects faith in action rather than faith perfected. My angel is relatable rather than pristine. My angel is joyful yet puts someone as ease; there is no need for pomp and circumstance with her. A simple “come as you are and join me” faith.

As I look at my angel, David LaMotte’s song “We Are Each Other’s Angels” fades in and out of my head like a mediation…

Well I hope I see you later
‘Cause it’s time for me to go
Someone just pulled over
Sure was good to know you
Go answer your calling
Go and fill somebody’s cup
And if you see an angel falling
Won’t you stop and help them up

‘Cause we are each other’s angels
And we meet when it is time
We keep each other going
And we show each other signs

Sometimes you will stumble
Sometimes you might fall down
Sometimes you will get lonely
With all these people around
You might shiver when the wind blows
And you might get blown away
You might even lose your colors
But don’t you ever lose your faith

We are each other’s angels
And we meet when it is time
We keep each other going
And we show each other signs

Thank you for the water
I thought I was gonna die out here in the desert
But you quenched my thirst
Let’s break a little bread together
I’ve got a little manna
It was a gift
From somebody who was passing by
And offered me a lift
Now go answer your calling
Go and fill somebody’s cup
And if you see an angel falling
Won’t you stop and help them up

We are each other’s angels
And we meet when it is time
We keep each other going
And we show each other signs

With all that makes up the holiday season, I hope you pause to appreciate your angel and be mindful about how you can be one to others.

A pile of broken crayons

November 2021 Quote – “Broken Crayons Still Color”

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As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me for the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For November 2021, the quote was “Broken crayons still color.”

As a kid, the 64-count crayon box with the sharpener in the back was the ultimate. The precise points. The colors. The endless artistic possibilities. It was all about the variety.

Inevitably over time favorite crayons got worn down. The paper was ripped down for sharpening. And eventually, snap!, a break. Over time the pristine set would look rather worn out. A hodgepodge of points, partially wrapped nubs, and naked bits. As I thought about the crayons, I remembered the feeling of wanting to replace the colorful nubs with pristine new ones as if they colored better.

Quotes I wrote down throughout the month included:

  • “It comes from the inside out”
  • “Anti-fragile”
  • “Dedication to finding happiness every damn day”
  • “People inspire people and become part of their DNA”
  • “Make a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait patiently”
  • “Micro-affirmation”
  • “In a world of Barbies, everyone needs a Joan Jett”
  • “Spark energy”
  • “Frientor – friend + mentor”
  • “The celebration of personal expression”
  • “Love defies all science and reason”
  • “Systematize serendipity”
  • “Constantly seek adventure and magic”
  • “A truth was unlocked in me and I couldn’t wait to live it out”
  • “The punctuation of one’s truth”
  • “Courage to reveal your true voice”

As I reviewed the quotes I jotted down throughout November, what stood out was the focus on people and having the space to be ourselves in a joyful way.

As I think about the people in my life who mean the most – from family and friends to close teammates and mentors, it’s those who display the wear and tear of life that I gravitate to. Those who expose their torn wrappers and broken bits. Those who are authentic and own all of who they are – and what it took to get where they are and who they are.

Yet for so long at work, I tried to be the pristine crayon. My wrapper a black suit and sensible pumps. But over time, the energy to appear “put together” kept me detached. Detached as a leader setting a false expectation for my team of what was needed to succeed. Detached from my clients due to my internal pressure to show I had all the answers. Detached from deeper relationships as I hid my torn wrapper. Detached from who I was at the core.

I think these quotes also reinforced my personal and professional work centered on diversity, equity, and inclusion. Reading Ijeoma Oluo’s “So You Want to Talk About Race” and Arthur Wood’s “Hiring for Diversity: The Guide to Building an Inclusive and Equitable Organization” this month reminded me how I felt bound up focused on my wrapper and challenged my habitual thinking/actions that prevented others from making their mark. For me, it means pausing to ask:  Am I acting/thinking on auto pilot? How can I encourage individuality? Who else can I invite? Are my words welcoming? Do my actions align to my intent? What am I overlooking due to my color and background? The authors made it clear just how much better we are together when we have variety.

My journey to be more accepting of myself and others has been colorful. I quit a fast-track job. I defined and redefined boundaries. I put vulnerability ahead of image. I said “yes, and” more. I screwed up, owned it, and learned. I won awards and lost big deals. I danced at team parties. I said no. I sent thank you notes. I took medical leave twice. I shared my power with others. I asked questions – a lot of questions. I knitted. Basically, I surrounded myself with others who were also vibrantly tattered building a compassionate network… and together we helped change the world. Seriously.

But most importantly, before I could do all of that, I first accepted my path wasn’t the “standard” way and proceeded forward with more bounce in my step coloring outside of the lines.

An Eight Hour Conversation in Silence

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I spent the last eight hours sharing more than 1 million words. The words came and went. Some in an emotional onslaught. Others dripped slow like molasses. The words reverberated, some boomeranging back again and again and again. Some I wanted more of, and others I wished to escape.

For eight hours in silence, I shared more than 1 million words to myself during a Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction retreat. The experience left me calm in some ways and spent in others. Eight hours with only your own words to listen to is daunting, even for me – an introvert – who’s comfortable spending time alone.

Each new practice of the day reinforced just how many “mind habits” I have … those loops that play on repeat in my head or rear their ugly head at the most in opportune time. While some habits are good:  I carry with me a strong sense of love and community. Other mind habits are distracting and sometimes detrimental:  The little nag that whispers not enough, not yet, not you.

This retreat, part of an eight-week training, emersed me in a variety of mindful practices all geared to help me recognize, be curious about, and move around my mind habits. During the day I:

  • Did seated breathing meditation
  • Conducted a body scan lying down
  • Held various yoga poses
  • Walked mindfully outside
  • Sat and ate in silence centered on my food

As our class practiced together via Zoom, our instructor stated that throughout the day we’d have “visitors,” and when they arrived simply name them, breathe, and let them move on. He shared that each visitor was an opportunity for something to work better rather than be an obstacle. Visitors could feel like a challenge but when embraced with a state of curiosity (Why are you popping up? What can I learn from you? Why are you back?), could be help us grow, reframe our thinking, and forge a new mind habit. I appreciated the metaphor of a challenge being a visitor – a neutral, if not positive word. I also liked that once we learn from our visitor it leaves. It’s not a permanent relationship. We have power over the visitor, and can help them leave.

Additionally, I participated in a few guided meditations. My favorite being “unconditional friendliness.” We were instructed to mentally focus on four specific phrases first thinking about myself, then a friend, then a “neutral” person (someone in the world less connected to you like a neighbor, co-worker, teacher, bus driver, or bartender at your favorite hangout). The four phrases:

  • May you be safe.
  • May you be happy and peaceful.
  • May you be healthy and strong.
  • May you live with ease and joy.

For about twenty minutes I focused on these four phrases. I thought of people in my life mentally stating: May you be safe. May you be happy and peaceful. May you be healthy and strong. May you live with ease and joy. Then I repeated the phrases to myself:  May I be safe. May I be happy and peaceful. May I be healthy and strong. May I live with ease and joy.

While I don’t have many negative messages in my head, I can’t say have a lot of “pro-love” ones either. I do not typically take time out to mentally love or reassure myself. I don’t regularly hear a soundtrack of compassion play in my head, yet I try to give that to others. It was a meaningful experience to give myself such concentrated positive energy. These well wishes for myself remined me of a meme I saw few weeks ago stating we should talk to ourselves with the same way we do to our pets.

Throughout my day of silent mindful meditation, the words in my head came and went. What began like crashing phrases eased into a gentle ebb and flow with longer breathing spaces of silence between them… followed by a lightened mental load.

Move Toward Your Dreams with One Step

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We all have something that we want to do. We carry these acorns in a safe space protecting them from the light of day, from getting scorched by the sun of other’s disbelief or even our own doubts. If we do nothing the dream is “safe.” While it might be protected, the dream deferred can also, in Langston Hughes’ words, “dry up like a raisin in the sun” or over time “just sags like a heavy load.” 

It can be scary and exhilarating to start something new. Any action puts you on a path of change, which will cause a ripple effect for more change. It’s overwhelming, exciting, and daunting to move forward. And that’s exactly the direction change propels you:  forward.

Many years ago, one of my hidden secrets was to run a marathon. Did I run? No. Had I ever run? No. Did I like to run (thinking back to high school’s presidential fitness tests)? No. Did I know how to run? No. Did I know how to train to run long distance, or short distance for that matter? No. Did I know how to “fuel” (eat/hydrate) to run? No. Did I have the attire to run? No. But yet, I wanted to run a marathon.

Regardless of the goal, each one requires a first step. One action. For me, it was run 1 block. Done. I made it. Then on to the next step. Each step, each action slowly generated another action such as:

  • Practice getting up at 6am to run (but not running)
  • Get up at 6am and run
  • Run a block, walk a block, run a block model
  • Commit to some duration of running such as 3 times a week
  • Tell one friend who’d finished a marathon who gave me her training program, signed me up for my first race – a 5K, and agreed to run with me
  • Buy properly fitted running shoes thanks to Pacer’s Running
  • Purchase Under Armour cold weather gear
  • Read a book on how to prepare to run a marathon
  • Get more sleep
  • Get a Reiki treatment for a nagging issue I’d carried in my body since 5th grade
  • Discover hill repeats
  • Find out gummy worms were my boost of choice on long distances

As I let more sun in on my dream, I could more easily see it come true. Each step also brought more help from my family and friends, plus coworkers who watched me online during a staff meeting as my tracking chip showed my mile marker progress on race day.

Each single action led me to another single action. Cumulatively each step led me from 2 mile to 5 miles to 10 miles to 18 miles, and yes, to finish 26.2 miles. Cumulatively each step gave me confidence. Cumulatively, each step confirmed I could overcome the inevitable setbacks. Cumulatively, I became a runner.

What’s your first step?