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 throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For May 2024 my quote was simply a word, “Align.”

I chose align partly because of its simplicity. One word. To get things in a row, organized. While there was a bit of organization that needed to be done after a year focused on caregiving, it was more than that. I felt out of alignment, like parts of me didn’t fit like they used to. A bit like a shirt shrunk in the wash or going back to college or your hometown and seeing how much you’d changed and grew since you were there but yet, still the same. Upon reflection, what I sought was inner congruence—alignment of, as one definition wrote, “your genuine essence, our deepest passions, and your unique talents.”  As I sought to align, or realign, here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention throughout the month:

• To perceive the world in binary is to forgo knowledge of the divine
• And then, I realized what you do with an idea—you change the world
• The work, it seems, for us is to draw sustenance from that central, eternal space without denying the experience of the storm—so to find the center and spread our battered wings is to feel the God within
• Sticky bits
• You are here to enrich the world
• Joy is a birthright
• Each of us are tiny waives on the vast ocean of bliss
• We try to prove our self-worth by what we get done, which means we always have to do more
• You are here to enrich the world
• Make it a place to play and not a final destination
• Strength and ease
• Remember who you are
• In the end, we’ll all become stories

I began my month trying some physical alignment:  yoga. I did yoga for about a year in my early twenties. Not sure what called me back to it, but the call was strong and persistent. I bought an unlimited pass for two weeks and jumped in. While there was much misalignment on the mat as I faced upside down trying to remember my right from my left, my brain was singular. Quiet and still. Yoga is the one place I cannot think of anything else. I can only do the pose and breath (and usually my breath takes reminding). This quieted brain was what my being had begged for. I bought a year-long membership.

The next opportunity to align arose at work. I suddenly had several calls on my calendar from younger co-workers I didn’t know. These calls were connectional in nature rather than about a project or task. Simply two people getting to know each other. We shared the basics – background, career journey, location, loved ones – and then shifted to personal. What they sought. Lessons I’d learned. Curious questions. Admitted secrets. Bold moves. Emotional decisions. We were not different. We were connected by a life thread – a continuum of humanness. I left these calls refreshed and smiling, reminded that wherever we are on our journey, we are all connected so it’s important to pause and simply be and align with others where the are.

Nature became my next source of alignment. After a 6-month renovation effort on my condo building, I finally got access to my back porch, OK, it’s more of a nook with a fire escape – but it’s outside. I got a small table with two chairs. I worked here in the coolness of the mornings. I read here on sunny weekend afternoons. I called my mom from here as dinner cooked. But the alignment came when I sat here. That’s it. I just sat here. I sat here as light rain fell. I sat here as the sun danced through the leaves of my neighbor’s three-story magnolia tree. I sat here in a steady breeze that rustled the leaves. I sat here and listened to and watched the birds, squirrels, and bunnies. As I sat in a stillness that extended from my bones to the soul, I recalled one of my mother’s favorite Bible verses, Matthew 6:26-27: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you worrying add a single hour to your life?”

This month reminded me that alignment begins within, and it is a muscle that needs to be worked, stretched, and soothed.

I realized that what I needed was less out there and more in here. That taking care of and replenishing me, my being, would enable me to be more of me in the world – and that, that was what I truly sought.

Not alignment to the world, but to align to myself within it.

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 throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For February 2024 my quote was: “Listen closely to the silence. It’s the sound of everything working out.”  

February was complex. It was the first month after my father’s death. I was on the phone a lot saying, “I’m calling on behalf of my father who died.” His birthday was this month. It was the first month mom did not have her Valentine in 59 years of marriage. It was heart health month and mom is a 5-bypass survivor. Every emotion was present. I worked to compartmentalize them so I could work, address our “to do list,” and play as life goes on – but alas they were there. Lurking. Pouncing. At times immediate and at others, a rising tide or shadow. Throughout the month here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention:

• The joy of living is still available to us
• Rest is a sense of “possibilitivity”
• You have to continue to show up
• Let me keep company always with those who say “look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads
• While we are trying to make sense of things, many we learn to make peace with things
• We share this human experience of love and loss
• You are not your worries
• We cannot shame ourselves into change – we can only love ourselves into evolution
• Grieve peacefully
• See what shimmers amid the darkness, what endures within their dust
• I hope I see you in my dreams tonight; Healthy, happy – and content in your new world
• That will scorch us with its joy
• Be with the mind as it is, and practice anyway
• Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.
• Sometimes, I see the moon in the middle of the day and know I am held by something so much larger than myself
• The sacred work of grieving
• I am
• Sit here while I pray
• The whispers were coming
• To live these moments only you will live, and say thank you that you are the one they were offered to

This month was reflective, prayer-filled, and joyful… and along the way, I realized:

… grief is proportionate to love, and I am grateful for the massive love my father gave me my entire life.

… you cannot comprehend grief until you have it, and those who share their knowledge or simply sit with you in the emotional overload and unknown are superheroes

… life is about community, and I – and my family – have an incredible one with life-long friends, college roommates, church members, volunteer buddies, neighbors, and angels placed on our path for a point in time

… “doing” is a wonderful, needed distraction, and “being” fully present, still, feeling, and reflecting is essential.

… laughter that builds from a giggle to tears is a magic elixir for anything

… grief is not about stopping but rather starting—an opportunity to seek, try, learn, and discover “next”

… pain is crushing alone, especially in the darkness of night, and 1am texts from a beloved night owl lights a path out of the loneliness

… there is no heavier weight to carry than your loved ones’ remains; it’s overpowering

… the mention of death really freaks a lot of people out – you can feel the awkwardness – and yet it is such a connectional experience we will all have

… art offers an emotional haven where the mind is still

… to never underestimate the comfort of a homemade casserole or soup, a strong bourbon, or a scoop of ice cream

… music in an on/off switch for emotions, especially church hymns

… nature knows and we need to visit it regularly

… prayer, ahhh prayer

Finally, I realized that the glimmer in my dad’s eye that so many commented on after his passing; his big smile and quick laugh; and his totally presence with all he encountered were due to his connection to death as a pastor. He knew our life is a God-given gift. A precious one filled with so many amazing people, sites, and experiences. He soaked up, celebrated, and praised them all. And this is what guides my grief and I carry forward.

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 throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For January 2024 my quote was: “Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are.”  

I love the start of something new. The fresh energy at the starting point. The contentment of getting organized and prepared. The hope for what is to come. Anticipation and trepidation swirled together in a delightful cocktail. This January, I got a different perspective. I saw the beauty of the end of something done amazingly well. This January, my father passed away after a decade of Alzheimer’s. Appreciation and loss raged in an emotional Tsunami. Throughout the month here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention:

• We have magic to make
• Sometimes just getting up and carrying on is a brave and meaningful act
• Be exactly where you are and be grateful
• My grief is tremendous but my love is bigger
• Beloved is where we begin
• He can hear your heart
• Never wait to explore joy and open our arms to love
• A perfectly imperfect bundle of curiosity, mayhem, and unintended bliss
• Nourish and comfort
• Misery might love company, but so does joy – and joy throws much better parties
• Release the suck
• It’s time for new
• We’re all just walking each other home
• Be at ease

January’s quote, picked unknowingly in December of what lay ahead, fit more than I could have predicted. As I abruptly stepped away from the tensions of work, community service, and the “shoulda’s,” and became emersed in the end of life of one of the two most influential people in my life. I relaxed into me. My focus no longer split or tied up in comparisons, but simplified into what was needed now, with him, for mom. My stress soared and prayers got longer; however, there was an undercurrent of ease. I faced the target in front of me without concern for image, “best practices,” or tradition. I let others step in to address the fray around me. The rest fell away.

Being fully myself in the moment let me experience it all, the fear and frantic to the tender and tears, and the magic and memories in between. And yes, the joy. The joy of sitting for hours holding his hand. The joy of his apology for being “a little shit” as I cleaned and dressed him. The joy of his rally and return of the sparkle in his eyes, interaction, and laughter. The joy of finding him pajamas with squirrels on them to keep him cozy. The joy of him looking at me directly in the eye after a squabble and declaring with resolution, “damn, you are just like me” – I beamed with pride and chuckled. The joy of the caregiver learning curve I had with mom and big laughs that resulted. The joy of seeing an expert, compassionate hospice team swoop in to care for him and support my mother gracefully. The joy of mom, dad, brother, and me all together in a quite prayer-filled moment the night before he died.

There is tension (maybe the better word is stress, worry, or overwhelm) that remains, but it centers on what to do next, not how to be. For that I will continue to look to my dad for guidance as explained in my eulogy at his funeral:

Over the past year staying at my parent’s house, I constantly replied to mom, “well, you know I am half you and half dad.” For which I’m grateful.

So now I will cry my emotions like mom and hopefully share the words like dad.

I will not tell you about who he was because you all knew. You knew from his words. You knew from his deeds. You knew from his faith-lived life.

Instead, I will share with you my last conversation with him. I awoke at 7am and listened to the baby monitor set up in his room. His breath clear and rhythmic. I did this often. Matching my breath to his to connect when words were not an option. Breathing together, in sync. Dad and Daddy’s Girl.

This time I noticed his cadence was different, quicker. I went to his room and listened more closely. I gave him his medication, and as the sun rose and warmed the sky, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “be at ease.”

I went back to bed to get a little more rest. Twenty minutes later I woke up suddenly, listened to the monitor. Silence. He was gone. At peace.

So, in his honor, I give you this charge and meditation:  Be at ease.

May you be at ease in the life God created for you.

May you be at ease in your career and volunteering – sharing your gifts with your community.

May you be at ease in the relationships that surround you… or be at ease to leave them and find those where you can.

May you be at ease with those who are different… welcoming unique, confronting tradition, celebrating diversity.

May you be at ease with those in crisis… holding their hand, sitting in silence, handing them a hankie.

May you be at ease in a faith that can be hard to follow.

May you be at ease in mourning, knowing that the pain and tears come from love.

May you be at ease to use your voice to protect and advocate for those in fear, in loss, in turmoil, in sickness, in isolation, in discrimination, in loneliness, and in conflict.

May you be at ease to let your light shine… smile with ease, laugh with ease, hug with ease, compliment with ease, encourage with ease.

May you be at ease at the end of a good day with a bowl of ice cream.

May you be at ease to pray, sit, pray, listen, pray, and pray some more.

May you be at ease to savor the beauty of nature and the birds’ song.

May you be at ease knowing that our loved ones are all called home to be with God.

May you be at ease here today in a community of love.

May you be at ease.

May you be at ease.

May you be at ease.