Today, may you find joy in all the little moments. In the solitude and in the bustle. In the labor and in the rest. May that joy bring you peace and connection on this imperfect day in your imperfect life. May joy choose you.
Enjoy this poem on joy by Donna Ashworth:
One of the most frustrating things is to be misunderstood. To have your explanations fall on deaf ears or a hardened heart.
Once I lost a friendship because my friend believed I had done something I hadn’t done. My assurances fell flat. Worse, I knew who had actually done the thing I had been accused of but didn’t say because that might jeopardize their friendship. So I became the exiled one. And watched that other friendship prosper. The protected friend knew I had paid the penalty for their own actions but wasn’t about to confess.
Misunderstandings can be so frustrating. Much better to be punished for something you actually did, a choice freely made, even if wrong. There is sense in that. But misunderstandings bring a helpless feeling coupled with an anger at the injustice of it all.
I wonder how many relationships have been lost over misunderstandings, for reasons that weren’t even true. Or how many people, even, wrongfully convicted. What of all that hurt and loss over things that aren’t even true?
What do you do in the face of that kind of senseless tragedy? One thing, of course, is to fess up if someone is bearing a penalty for something you did. But beyond that maybe is the way we open our own ears and soften our hearts to make sure that we’re not the ones cutting people off and ending relationships over things we might be wrong about.
No one captures this angst of being misunderstood better than Nina Simone with her prayer, O Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.
One of the most joyful things about teaching is finding the method that leads to a particular child learning where perhaps they struggled before. Finding the right key for the lock. Teaching, in this way, is one of the most creative and challenging jobs because each child is unique. Not every child can simply sit at a desk and listen to their teacher drone on and somehow absorb and master the material. In fact, a student who would prefer this lecture method is rare.
A vibrant classroom is filled with hands-on, group work, mentoring, art, music, activities, and so on. There are so many ways to teach and pair the right method with the right child. This is why a good teacher will always feel they learn as much as they teach. Of course, implicit in this challenge is having as the goal, helping the child learn. When obedience and regiment replaces learning as the goal, and the teaching method is rigid and unyielding, often students will struggle and fall through the gaps.
Teachers need to always keep their eye on the ball. The bottom line, the mission, is helping children learn.
There are so many areas where the same analysis applies. Where perhaps we fail to keep our eye on the right ball.
My pastor posted the following:
The method v. The mission. There are many ‘This is the way we’ve always done it’ or ‘Technology isn’t our thing’ or ‘Let’s just keep to ourselves’ sentiments behind each failing church. And misplaced beliefs that perhaps there’s just no space for church anymore in today’s world.
And yet.
In both teaching and ministry, there remains the mission. To help children learn. To help God’s people. And these needs in the world are growing, not shrinking.
So then the question becomes, and really always has been, how can we adapt our methods to fulfill our mission?
We want to support the people we love as they go through difficult times, but how often does that support turn into telling them what to do or criticizing them for what they’ve done? How often does it make our loved one feel smaller or shamed or detached? What message does our trying to control them or the situation send them about our confidence in their abilities to handle the curve balls that life throws at us all?
In this powerful column on the concept of holding space, Heather Plett explains how we can show up for the people we care about without controlling them or the outcome, how our presence can be constructive rather than destructive, how we can offer support in a healthy way. She learned these lessons from Ann, a palliative care nurse who helped her deal with the challenges of her aging mother’s impending death. Here are Heather’s eight take-aways:
That #4 is a tough one, yes? We want to be important; we want to save the day; we think we know best. But giving others a safe place to find their own path forward empowers them to meet future challenges with resilience and courage. If they are dependent on us and our ‘wisdom’, they may not trust their own abilities. And, let’s be honest, do we really have all the answers anyway; isn’t life surprising and full of struggles that we don’t anticipate fully? Don’t we all need to develop the resilience and courage to respond to these challenges?
For more on Terry Crews and the background of the powerful quote above, including his conclusion that we can evolve and change and do things better, go here.
For those of you who know me, you know I recently lost Honey, my beloved dog. Honey was my soul animal, my constant light, my precious girl. I am having trouble accepting that I won’t see her again. The world feels so different without her presence in it. And those eyes. What I would give to look in those eyes again!
Loss is hard. Whether it is of a spouse, a child, a friend, or a pet. We carry a hole with us where that loved one was. But when we sit and consider that relationship and dwell on the things about it for which we are grateful, the loss hurts a bit less.
Smiles replace tears. Warm memories flood our senses. Laughter surprises us. We remember ways we’ve grown or blossomed because of that relationship. Gratitude replaces hurt or anger or grief.
We remember that, yes, we had to say goodbye, but how lucky we were to say hello.
Our hearts start to heal.
In his letter to the early church at Corinth, Paul sets out how love shows up in the world in his effort to help them get along. It is a frequent text for weddings:
“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful…” 1 Corinthians 13:4-5.
To those about to marry, an interesting exercise is to substitute the name of your beloved each time the word ‘Love’ appears. And an even more interesting exercise, for all of us, is to substitute our own names instead of the word ‘love’:
I am patient and kind; I do not envy or boast; I am not arrogant or rude. I do not insist on my own way; I am not irritable or resentful….
How did you do? For many of us, this simple recitation shows us the exact ways and times we are being less than loving and calls us to consider those actions. Must we insist on our own way? How do we know what is right? Isn’t it possible that someone else may be right, too? Are we becoming impatient with others? Can we take a minute to rein ourselves in, breathe deeply, and begin again? Are we holding grudges? Can we let the past go and try to make our present the best possible? And so on.
These checks we can do to measure our progress and monitor our moods against the ideal of love can be very helpful to keep us on track showing up in this world as close to lovingly as we can get.
It’s okay to be heartbroken for more than one group of people at the same time. When it comes to showing compassion, we don’t have to pick sides. Sometimes, often really, maybe even always, there is hurt and anguish everywhere, and we can mourn the lot of it.
Beware people who tell you not to be concerned for this group or that group and the hurt they feel.
Beware those who try to dehumanize others.
Beware those who lump you in as the ‘enemy’ for working to assure people are treated humanely.
Beware people who draw lines between us and them.
Beware those who try to limit you to a label or single identity.
Our hearts are big enough to embrace it all. What we must save is love.
When we find ourselves in challenging times and are unsure which way to turn, let these words help guide you.
Do justice. Peace, justice, love are things we do and bring about, not things we wait for. With our best discernment, we offer ourselves to the world, hoping to make a difference. Kind words, loving hearts, calm demeanors, patience, forbearance, and forgiveness. The way of the One we follow. A servant’s heart but a leader’s strength.
Love mercy. Oh, how the world loves vengeance, cancelling, grudges, getting even, punishment. To love mercy is a kinder, gentler path, one that believes in the redeem-ability of every last one of us. One that doesn’t insist on being avenged or having the last word. One that delights in forgiveness and healing.
Walk humbly. No matter how hard we try to do or be right, we may be wrong. The other guy might be right. And, get this, God loves the other guy as much as God love you.
I was scrolling on what used to be called Twitter and read the following post.
This really struck me. What am I doing with the power, life, opportunities, strengths, etc., that I actually have? Not the ones I dream of having, or used to have, or might someday have, or ones I admire in someone else. Mine. Right here, right now.
How about you?
There is a certain tipping point where life becomes weighted with loss. Things shift from everything out ahead to having a full past. In many ways, it is challenging, sad, and frustrating. But in some, it can be liberating.
Consider these words from Anne Lamott:
“So many indignities are involved in aging, and yet so many graces, too. The perfectionism that had run me ragged and has kept me scared and wired my whole life has abated. The idea of perfectionism at 60 is comical when, like me, you’ve worn non-matching black flats out on stage. In my experience, most of us age away from brain and ambition toward heart and soul, and we bathe in relief that things are not worse. When I was younger, I was fixated on looking good and impressing people and being so big in the world. By 60, I didn’t care nearly as much what people thought of me, mostly.”
“I do live in my heart more, which is hard in its own ways, but the blessing is that the yammer in my head is quieter, the endless questioning: What am I supposed to be doing? Is this the right thing? What do you think of that? What does he think of that?”
“A lot of us thought when we were younger that we might want to stretch ourselves into other areas, master new realms. Now, I know better. I’m happy with the little nesty areas that are mine. For some reason, I love my softer, welcoming tummy. I laugh gently more often at darling confused me’s spaced-outed ness, although I’m often glad no one was around to witness my lapses.”
“It’s Good to Remember: We Are All on Borrowed Time,” by Anne Lamott.
I do ‘feel I live in my heart more’ as she notes. And that grief is keen and biting. Almost as if my mind is at war with itself, one half realizing that death is a natural part of life, inevitable. While the other half refuses to accept the new reality. And yet, ultimately, it is our impermanence that gives our lives luster and meaning. And acceptance, if it should come, may not bring comfort, but peace.
QuotableCreek.com 