On Inauguration Day

On inauguration day I woke in the wee hours of the morning feeling unsettled and a bit disoriented.

Around 5 AM, I rose and headed to a favorite spot. I lit a candle in the dark. I meditated on “look for beauty.” Several recent instances came to mind, and I wrote them down.

I turned to the quotidian tasks of being mom. As my girls entered the kitchen, I confessed, “I feel melancholy, I feel sad” on this inauguration day.

My daughter stated her oft-repeated sentiment, “I am going to tell my kids I had nothing to do with this election.” Her generation offers me hope.

I sat down and I began to write, because that is my habit and my refuge.

My heart and mind turned toward a planned walk with a neighbor and her baby. Each time I look into the face of this baby girl, hope soars. I returned to the words of an author who spoke out loud my own heart so beautifully.

On inauguration day, the gray and dreary conditions outside echo the melancholy within. It was my turn to drive the carpool today, and so I did. My church is situated along our route and the chimes reverberated just as we passed by.

I stopped at a community gathering spot and got something warm to drink. I headed home, re-lit my candle, and set myself up by the fireplace. Rather than tune into radio or television, I choose quiet and stillness on this day.

On this inauguration day, I grieve, but not without hope. There is much work to do.

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PS I highly recommend the above linked writing by Rachel Held Evans on 2016 and the risk of birth. Lovely.

The day I cried at yoga

Very early this morning, after a mere two hours of sleep, my anxiety woke me. After watching the end to an awful and divisive presidential election, rest mostly eluded me. I have made no secret of my own particular leanings this year. I felt devastated as the reality of an ending that almost no one predicted rolled out over hours. How the hell am I going to explain this to my daughters? They have heard with their own ears the way that this president-elect speaks about women and immigrants and people with disabilities and… “Will my Muslim friend now be deported?” “Is he really going to build a wall?” “Mom, I am afraid.”

So I headed to a place where I most often find peace. The yoga room. My teacher walked in with intention. She almost sounded like a drill sergeant as she grasped for words of response to the early morning news. I imagine that she leaned the same way that I did – most yoga instructors probably did. She reminded us of the sacred community in our midst on several occasions. We focused on heart opening exercises. At one point, she had us balance multiple times on each foot. There was so much wobbling all around.

Toward the end of class, she said, “I invite you to join in the river of the room.” We all lined up right in the middle as she instructed us to put our hands on the shoulder of our neighbor. Then we balanced once again. “How does this feel differently when we lean on and support each other?” It was like night and day. I was at ease and knew that my neighbor would not let me fall down. Cleansing tears were released to flow down my face. I have never before cried during yoga.

My greatest concern with this president-elect is how he has normalized the speaking out loud of things racist and misogynistic and hate-filled. Yesterday, I listened to the story of a Vietnamese adoptee who passed by one of his political rallies on her college campus, and his supporters felt the freedom to yell at her “go back where you came from.” She was shaken to the core. She looks very much like my daughters.

The sludge of human prejudice that we all battle inside has been emboldened to shoot out loud from mouths more freely and without pushback from those who know better. We are closing our ears and our hearts to those we deem “other.” I want to be able to tolerate the voices of the “others” in my life, but when that which is being spoken is filled with contempt and hatred, I draw a line. I will not be silent.

I will continue to return to the river that my yoga instructor invited me to this morning. When my daughters looked at me this morning with fear and confusion, I hugged them and said, “We will love and support each other, we will love our neighbors, we will love God, and we will move forward.” When a man with skin tones different than my own arrived to work at my home this morning, he said, “you were up late last night, weren’t you?” We hugged each other. For this day and this moment as well as any challenging ones ahead, I will do my best to stand in the river.

Where is home?

"Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts." Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself." Maya Angelou

Last week, the girls and I were invited to tag along with my husband on a work trip. It was to a place that offers up a landscape and breathtaking scenery of the likes that I have never seen before. This space is located in the general area where the upper and lower peninsulas of Michigan meet up, and two of the great lakes co-mingle. One of my dearest friends has spent almost every summer of her life in this vicinity, and her eyes sparkle and dance when she talks of summer days lived in such a place. Now I understand, if only a little.

As a girl who grew up in South Florida, I relate a bit more to the Maya Angelou quote over that of Mr. Holmes. This tropical coast that I called home for much of my childhood is a bit of a transient region, and there are few that have deep family roots there. For almost 26 years, I have lived in a medium sized southern city, but I am not a southerner. That became quite clear to me when I landed in my college freshman dorm and began to navigate a new and strange to me culture and code. My family did travel to the mountains of North Carolina most summers of my youth, and that landscape and beauty still has a special piece of my heart. But there is no one place that claims the whole of me.

Our family has had opportunity to travel and visit a great number of places across our country. Each one captures my imagination in its very own way. I wonder what it would be like to live in this area? Summer seems great, but what about the winters? Could I make connections here and settle down? What would daily life contain in this specific space? What would I miss if I left another place behind? 

So, this week, I wonder aloud and secretly about this beautiful spot. With searing heat and soaring humidity back in my current hometown, the mild temperatures and gentle breezes of this place are so inviting. I'd love to share a bit of this beauty with you.

A view of the bridge that connects the lower and upper Michigan peninsulas.

Sunset on Mackinac Island

Arch rock with a view of the amazing colors of both lake and sky

Bicycles are a most common mode of transportation all throughout this region. One morning, despite intermittent showers, I took off and around the island. It was so peaceful, so serene, so stunning in its very own way.

The wet pavement rolled out before me

Great lakes style "rock castles" so very interesting and different from the sand castles I know.

Amazingly clear and "see straight to the bottom" water. I love this view of the rocks beneath the surface.

As we moved to another location, the beauty and new experiences continue to delight and charm. The sun comes shining right into my bedroom very early and just as the sun rises in the east. I peak out the window and this take your breath away beauty is just across the bay. A beautiful painting just outside the door.

Early morning and late evening are our favorite times to practice newfound gentle and peace filled experiences. The water is placid and invites us to come out and see the beauty all around.

A few more of our children will show up to this beautiful place in the next day or so. That always makes any place feel a little more like home. I understand why my friend sometimes longs for this particular place and the allure and grace it offers to her soul. I feel more of a kinship with Maya Angelou and in the days and years ahead I too wish to be at home wherever I find myself.

How about you? Which of the beginning quotes most resonates with your heart and soul? Is there one particular place that feels more like home than anywhere else? I would love to hear from you.

At the Golden Corral

Being a part of the blogger world is quite disconcerting at times. When big events, especially tragic ones, happen, there is a bizarre sort of race toward the world of social media to get reactions, clever or insightful angles as well as personal judgments spewed out into the world. Though I often write of parenting and family matters, current events and my evolving Christian faith sometimes drive my writing as well. In a 24-hour news cycle, the temptation is to compulsively react to matters that are more appropriately handled with a great deal of contemplation and soul searching. Wait and consider and pray often comes to mind when my reactions and inner thoughts begin to spin and whirl out of control on any number of challenging topics leading today’s headlines.

Dr. John Perkins, a much loved and respected man who has given his life to the work of racial reconciliation and Christian community development, landed in Raleigh a few months back. As a young man, he was unjustly beaten, tortured and imprisoned during the height of the civil rights movement, yet he has devoted his life to the slow work of racial reconciliation within our country. Now 86 years of age, he continues to speak out and challenge others to move forward along this path.

Recent headlines and shootings happening in St. Paul, Baton Rouge, Dallas and now Baton Rouge again remind us that this critical work of racial reconciliation still has a long, long way to go in these ironically named United States of America -divided rather than united seems a more apt description of so many of the monologues and positions swirling around us as citizens. I have previously written of my personal paralysis and questioning of what in the world does this 53-year old white lady of privilege say and do when tragedies of this magnitude continuously roll out before our eyes?

Even before Philando or Alton or the police officers doing the critical work of keeping the peace were killed, the invitation as follow up to the weekend with John Perkins was issued. Come to the Golden Corral, break bread together and listen and learn. When that night arrived, we as citizens had been through a very difficult week. Roughly 50% African American and 50% Caucasian sprinkled with a Latino and Asian presence gathered on this night.

We ate and got to know each other on a surface level as we talked of work and family and summer plans. Then the floor was opened up and the elephant in the room question was spoken out loud. How do each of you feel about the most recent national tragedies we have witnessed and heard tell of and experienced each in our individual way? Every single person had opportunity to give voice on this matter. The emotions were high and ran the gamut - from anger to despair to sadness to fear to hopelessness to hopefulness and beyond. We listened to each other. I walked away from that evening with much to ponder as well as a better understanding of my fellow brothers and sisters of varied races.

We will continue to meet together in mixed race and smaller groups. We will meet in local restaurants for lunch and invite and host one another in our homes for dinner. Hopefully this will be a springboard to continue to do the on-the-ground work of doing justice, loving mercy and walking humbly with our God. As Kent Annan’s book title says, it is certainly, “A Slow Kingdom Coming.” We will start with listening, honor and respect for all and move toward living life as friends.

I don’t have a lot of answers. I am saddened that there is pressure to choose corners in so many national matters – it is not incongruous to both believe that a percentage of law enforcement is biased against black men and that law enforcement is an honorable and much needed profession. It is not “either or”, but “both and”.

I am weary and exhausted over seeing this sight. Not for some esteemed citizen who has passed away after living a long, honorable or dedicated life, but in response to violence and hatred and lives shot down far too early.

Just last night, in the dark hours of the early morning in my very own neighborhood, KKK material was distributed. I am horrified and angry. The rumblings and undercurrent and outright brutality throughout our country are unsettling and seem to be throwing us all back to dark times of societal violence and injustice. I imagine that my black friends have many stories of how that very same injustice has been present for them and those they call family all along the way. I need to listen and receive. I guess I will just keep showing up at the Golden Corral and open wide the doors of my home as well as my heart to all who stop by.

I have read a number of perspectives on recent happenings. Here is one that has helped me understand the view of another.