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Somewhere in the middle of thankfulness…

There is a sense of collective rejoicing and thankfulness in the neighborhood today during my breezy walk as schools here begin a new instructional year and the remaining months of 2026 venture onward. While the year is over halfway behind us, there is something about this time of transition that creates a pause. Somewhere in the middle of this pause, things get real. For some of us, this middle space comes with gratitude. We can point to moments of joy, growth, answered prayer, or unexpected grace. For others, this middle place comes with disappointment and quieter honesty. Not everything we hoped for has unfolded the way we imagined, thus we find ourselves somewhere in between those two places—holding both gratitude and grief in our hands.

As is a spiritual custom, the first Sunday in January (Epiphany), is STAR Sunday (following the Star of Bethlehem as the Wisemen did). Each year I am gifted a “Star” Word to guide my coming year, a simple word chosen for me to ponder, to notice, to hold in prayer, and return to as a reminder throughout my journey during the year ahead. My word gifted to me this year: thankfulness.

I have been sitting with the word thankfulness for months now, and I will be honest—I am still learning what it means. Being thankful is usually tied to specific moments whereas being grateful (a favorite personal word) represents a stronger, deeper, and lasting state of appreciation. At first, I thought thankfulness might point outward, but more and more, it feels like something growing inwardly, something similar to gratefulness. For example, I remain thankful for a medical team who acted swiftly during a medical procedure in March to save my life. I continue to be thankful for the act of physical healing while learning to care for my body in a more intentional way. Especially this year and with support from those who keep me grounded, this has meant paying attention to my rhythms of rest, nourishment, and building strength and balance in all areas of daily life. Healing is never instant or linear; it rarely looks the way we might expect it to look. Healing has meant learning to be thankful for the body I have now in this moment while learning to live in this body. Thankfully, I have absorbed that one of the greatest gifts others give to me is to encourage my feisty spirit more than evaluate my physical appearance. My body may not look a certain way, but thankfully it allows me to serve, laugh, hug, love, and live this beautiful life each day.

At times, this word thankfulness has felt clearly visible; at other times extremely confusing. Thankfulness tried to slip into the background of daily life but I intentionally keep it front and center. The truth is, thankfulness reminds me how there are stories being written in each of us all the time. There is still forgiveness to be offered, courage to be found, healing to unfold, JOY to surface, and grace to be shared.

Thankfully, no season lasts forever. We are not given the abundance of a full map for the journey but just enough for each step of each day. I may not be full of fresh intention and possibility but I am not at the end to look back and make sense of the whole story. I am living in the middle of my thankfulness, between the what was and what might be with just enough living to trust, to stay in motion, and to become—living in this glorious middle space where things are not fully resolved, but where faith, hope, and Love prevail while the soul celebrates in thankfulness.

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For the love of errands…

Errands, putterings, noodlings, piddlings, wreck-and-ordering…those little voyages we take to hunt and gather things and get stuff done are an integral part of our lives. While the errands are excursions with a purpose, in contrast, chores are those domestic obligations usually performed at home. In Old English, an “aerend” means message or mission with a duty. Running errands is often a mission of duty and yet satisfying in a way other actions in our lives may not be most days. We wander out into the world with a route or list to follow: stop here to drop off the dry cleaning; pick up the prescriptions; don’t forget to purchase those needed supper items at the grocery store… When we complete the route, the results are clear and usually achievable with a tangible and most satisfying conclusion.

To emphasize this point, I recently stumbled upon the social-media show “Errands” (from filmmaker Noah Blau) where someone is accompanied on their mission. Why is it a show so apparently ordinary has become incredibly popular? According to the creator: “Beauty is found in the minutiae, and the things that are banal are often the most interesting. It’s those in-between moments of life where growth and realization happen.” The genius of “Errands” is how it provides a window into the personalities and preoccupations of its participants. A stranger appears and announces the day’s errand. You are immediately privy to their internal monologues as they carry out the mission through serendipitous conversations and pit stops along the way. Each quick episode is a couple of minutes long and wastes no time in establishing a scene with introductions. We are suddenly passengers taken on a private expedition, instantly thrust into someone’s personal life. Even when someone does not accomplish the errand successfully, the process is fascinating. Each of us can relate; we appreciate a “to do” errand list as well as the satisfaction of checking-off each accomplishment.

When visiting others away from home, it is an interesting study to observe the highlights of their daily lives, especially while running errands with them. From what they listen to in the car and how they organize their route to what their chosen stops represent and who they encounter, these errand-running experiences reveal tidbits into daily lives. My paternal grandmother would occasionally enlist a friend to join in and run errands with her. This allowed them time to catch up and visit in person when their daily lives were often too difficult to schedule formal social time. As they both aged, running errands together also allowed them companionship and additional safety during the process (especially when one drove better than the other). On the other hand, I have a friend who strictly completes her errands in solitude because they are the rare break from “people duties.” She swears by “the soft-touch socialization I’m forced into while out and about…you know…the familiar clerk at the pharmacy, the neighbor in the produce section, or the former student in the line at the post office…each errand is its own little episode.”

Yes, errands get us out of our personal spaces away from our chores and into community with others. While it is tempting to hibernate or rely on delivery services, running errands captures that clever combination of the mundane with the meaningful and the magic of mingling tasks while collecting little epiphanies along the errand journey. For the love of errands, here’s hoping your next errands bring their own unique episodes and epiphanies.

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The Hardness vs. the Softness

One of our daily routines is morning coffee at our little antique kitchen table. We spend time reading, chatting, and observing the creatures outside our three kitchen windows. The bird feeders (and it is an elaborate system M designed) are set at the cusp of the wilderness beyond. This area is a constant theatre of creature action throughout the day, but most especially in the early morning. Beyond the bird action, we also behold the squirrel shenanigans. As many people who have bird feeders know, this joy of providing birds a varied and consistent source of food is offset by an ongoing adversarial relationship with the squirrels. M will knock on the windows to distract these creative creatures who come up with endless ways to ravage the bounty provided.  These brazen social acrobats leap from high tree limbs and fly through the air to outsmart any “squirrel proof” feeder or baffle in their path. We also have a clever pair of bunnies who frequently appear who sit up on their hind legs to swipe at the squirrels in intimidation while feeding from the scraps on the ground. It is unrelenting and yet so remarkably entertaining to observe the problem solving of these creatures in real time.

There is a soft place in my soul for all creatures great and small (well, maybe not snakes, but they have purpose too). One recent morning as I started to pull out of the driveway a squirrel was laying in the street, recently hit by a car and slowly expiring. Another squirrel stood guard screeching, perhaps a mate or sibling. I cut the engine and retrieved our large snow shovel in the garage to gently lift the dying squirrel off the road and into the wooded area beside our home. The same squirrel guarding watched this action from a safer distance then once again attended the dying squirrel when I stepped away. I stood at a distance and marveled as three other squirrels joined the scene; what a fascinating symphony of various orchestral players structured in multiple movements, tempos, sounds, and emotional expression as they helped the squirrel transition…

So, my perceived view of squirrels has quietly shifted this spring during our morning routine. While they appear to dominate one moment, the squirrels will suddenly give way for birds to gather on the feeders while bunnies and chipmunks feast on the ground. Occasionally, a curious squirrel wanders to our windows searching for other options. During this closer proximity, it is possible to notice the way the morning light reflects through a squirrel’s multi-colored fur and how their translucent ears and delicate eye markings showcase their sleek bodies. Their powerful flexibility is unmistakable, especially in those fluffy tails. Seeing a squirrel’s physicality more closely shifts the hardness of perception into a softer reality. Not surprisingly, this usually occurs when I let go of what I thought about something to study in more detail what is actually in front of me. Hmmm…

There are many hard things happening throughout our country and the world each day. A deep awareness of what is heavy and rigid within my own heart and soul resides within my family and community life as well. Even in his deepening journey with Alzheimer’s, daddy unknowingly also demonstrates how the hardness of changes yields gently into softness. In all its burst of colorful glory, these spring months already feel softer than the harshness of the past winter, thus encouraging gentler ways to cushion the day. Softening things like routines, conversations, health journeys, and daily pressures allows a surrendering to wonder, hope, joy, and yes, even squirrels. As momma often quipped: “Be bendable (softness) and not breakable (hardness).”

Friends, may a hardness in your own life transform gently into a softness for you!

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Clouds

After sliding onto the surgical table from the gurney, I look up to see the floating clouds above my head. Even without my glasses, I know these clouds are one of those clever light diffuser panels used to create a calm focal point for the patient before surgical anesthesia begins. As I take a deep breath into the mask and the medicine begins to flow into my veins, the familiar lyrics and a singular female voice impart:

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Looked at clouds that way…

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all…

I awake to the clouds above me once again; they continue to move but in the opposite direction this time. There is commotion, intensity, many sets of eyes focused above me with several voices talking simultaneously, and then darkness once again.

The next time of conscience clarity is in a different space where the soft voices of my beloved M, our youngest daughter, and my friend converse quietly near me. Carefully chosen words of assurance are given in my right ear by a voice I do not recognize. A gentle touch to my shoulder provides comfort and the sense of grounding strength. There is great heaviness upon my chest, short and shallow breaths, and so many questions to ask but nothing venturing out of my mouth. Did the heart procedure go well? Why am I struggling to take a deep cleansing breath? More darkness.

Moans and groans awake me. The noise is resonating from my own labored breathing. What is happening? Where are we? When will this elephant get off my chest? Why are my eyes out of focus (I can’t hear well without my glasses). Who are my helpers here? How do I convey my needs?

It’s C-ICU and the “routine” ablation procedure did not go as expected. Once inside my heart, my blood pressure unexpectedly plummeted and pericardial effusion with cardiac tamponade ensued. Four minutes of CPR, two drains placed inside my chest, and units of blood, platelets, and plasma stabilized the situation to ensure my pericardium stayed free from additional fluid. A hematoma developed at one of the surgical sites. When details of the procedure were eventually shared, the situation sounded terrifying, and then most sobering.

Because of the clouds above my head with the song lyrics in my mind on that particular day, part of this experience reminded me how much my mom adored any form of poetry. Song lyrics were her favorite to analyze, like Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now“ (1966). While this song explores the shifting perspectives of life, love, and illusions as we move from youthful idealism to adult experiences and beyond, it is her unique perspective resonating the most. Her beautiful words highlight the growing wisdom unveiled through the complexity of life and all its living. True understanding in life is often elusive, and life is defined by its, often contradictory, “both sides.” How ironic to experience my own “both sides” in such a unique way.

Recovery commences and reality sets in on a “new normal” (whatever this truly means). Several appointments, labs, and scans later, we move onward in a similar yet altered direction. With much personal change the past two years topped with a transitional health experience, a deeper, more meaningful journey emerges. Gratefully, I awake each morning with the gift of someone’s donated blood products. Thankfully, a beautiful community of devoted family members and friends-like-family walk beside me. Our remarkable daughters remain keenly aware to the reality of their aging parents along with a personal need to better understand our family history and health experiences. And even as we continue walking the longest goodbye with my sweet daddy, a personal pilgrimage of change ventures forth, one where clouds shift directions from both sides now. 

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Following the Star…

Epiphany. Twelfth Night. The Three Kings. The Magi.

Three Wise Men traversed afar. They rejoiced. They fell down to worship. They brought precious treasures of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. As a pastor friend wrote, “We don’t know who these three mysterious, wise travelers were. We don’t know what happens to them after they leave the site of Jesus’ birth. All we know is they choose to follow the Star, to go and see, and then show great wisdom in not going back to report to King Herod…” ~Rev. Erik Folkerth~

M. and I frequently walk together to clear our heads, breathe fresh air, observe the changing of the seasons, and talk through daily events to unpack the realities of life. While he’s a man of few words most of the time (because, well, he’s married to me), his direct yet profound words of assurance always resonate: “All we really have left to offer in today’s world is our humanity. Without our humanity, we have nothing. No matter what is swirling around us, let us continue to be kind humans and love others.” Yes; his few words always calm my soul.

We manifest what we think and then say. We keep it simple even when we know it’s not easy. We choose to show up. We choose to pay attention. We choose to speak truth. We choose to be kind. We choose to love others. And oh my stars…yes, it’s all simple in theory; it’s just not easy in daily practice.

“We ARE the Magi, searching, resplendent in this world’s accoutrements of knowledge and wealth and achievement…but we search and seek something more.”  ~Ann Weems~

Perhaps we are more like the Magi than we realize. They chose courage and kindness in not returning to Herod, the one who sent them. As humans, we seek, discover, observe, perceive, grow, and change on our journeys. In our humanity, we shine the light on uncomfortable truths and realizations we often find difficult to process. We make choices, for better or for worse, then we continue to search and seek more. And sometimes in our humanity, we must simply choose “to return another way.”

So on this Epiphany, as we grapple with our humanity and being human, may genuine hope, faith, and intentional practice guide each of us in the coming year. May we seek those glimmers of truth, accountability, kindness, and love in our interactions with one another. In all our humanity, this is never easy, but it’s a simple way to be human.  

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One candle…grant us peace

As the shortest day and the longest night unfold, it is evident the winter solstice is upon us once again. Last evening, we savored a beautiful symphony concert where the local youth chorus shared their glorious pure voices in celebration of the season. Accompanied by various orchestral instruments, several stepped forth in solos and duets to a packed audience in attendance. The last three selections involved audience participation with our individual candles and our voices raised with them in song. Two young ladies stepped up to a microphone to begin a beautiful number called, “One Candle,” with the words and music by Andy Beck and Brian Fisher (both local composers and lyricists). The glow of our individual candles slowly shining collectively reminded me again how both the darkness and the light hold space for each of us. Even more importantly, when we share our light with others, light prevails over darkness. Even as we prepare for the darker winter nights ahead, may we focus on the blessing of the light within us…and wherever you find yourself on this longest night, keep faith that tomorrow brings a sliver of more light. May this light grant you and yours peace.

One Candle (by Andy Beck and Brian Fisher)

One candle, one light, burning clear throughout the night; one candle, one symbol of peace. One candle, plus one, now a glimmer has begun; two candles, two symbols of peace.

Dona nobis, nobis pacem (“grant us peace”); in the glow of candlelight I see. Dona nobis, nobis pacem, peace for you and me.

Three candles, then four, shining stronger than before; five candles, six candles burn bright. More candles join us, see a spark of hope begin. Each candle increasing the light.

Dona nobis, nobis pacem, in the glow of candlelight I see. Dona nobis, nobis pacem; peace for you and me.

Your candlelight with mine will radiate and shine; growing stronger, for all the world to see, you and me.

Dona nobis, nobis pacem, in the glow of candlelight I see. Dona nobis, nobis pacem; peace for you and me. Peace for you and me…

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Our Stories Matter…

“The significance—and ultimately the quality—of the work we do is determined by our understanding of the story in which we are taking part.” —Wendell Berry

Our oldest daughter was a very precocious child and exuberant early talker, in full sentences, with exceptional intonation, rhythm, and clarity. Yes…non-stop-run-on-stunningly-astute-commentary-in-surprisingly-grown-up-language-about-everything-she-was-thinking-or-noticing-around-her-or-within-her-in-any-particular-moment. By the time she was two and a half years old, random people who overheard her ongoing narration would look and ask, “How old is that child?” She loved thoughts, ideas, facts, language, and stories from the womb. From Pythagorean Theorem to Mozart, she was actively responsive to language and music. One of her favorite games we played anywhere anytime when she needed to be engaged was called “add on stories.” I would start with a phrase: “Once there was a little girl and…” she would take up the thread and add her own piece of the story, “and, and, and she was an artist who one day  found a collie…” I would respond with, “and the collie said to the little girl….” (You get the idea.) We loved those add on stories and how they wound around and went in unexpected places based on the reality of our daily lives, yet infused with the power of her vivid imagination and dreams. On long road trips, she would play along with great embellishment. What I wouldn’t give to have recordings of these spontaneous adventures because our stories matter.

I believe the history of us all is in our stories. From listening and reading them to watching them unfold on a screen, we naturally appreciate stories. We live our lives through the stories we tell, the stories we hear, the stories we hold dear, the stories we add onto, and the stories we must let go. Our stories hold, lift up, or shift our perception to help frame our reality because our stories matter.

Stories help us honor the work we choose to do each day. In reality, each day’s story is the next chapter of the ultimate story in each of our lives. During these past recent days in particular, there is an urgency to hold close those stories that keep resilience and boldness alive. We need our stories to help us embrace what is beautiful and joyous in our lives. We need to help one another remember that some of the most powerful stories often have moments where events go someplace we did not expect…to places where dreams unravel, only to be rediscovered, picked up, and carried onward. This is a challenging time in our country to gather with one another because the add-on story we are choosing to participate in, is not ours to carry alone. Our collective national story is one we carry together. We must add-on; keep telling, reimagining, and co-creating our story together. We have the magic, the mystery, and the majesty within us because, indeed, our stories matter.

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2025…

So here we are and here we go…one year soon leaving and the next one is at our door. New opportunities, possibilities, hopes, dreams, and our stories march onward as Chapter One of 2025 unfolds. The history of each of us has always been in our collective stories, and a new year provides unique ways of crafting and sharing our stories. Even as we reflect on the past year, we cannot help but crave a peak at the year before us.

The Scottish phrase “auld lang syne” literally means “old long since” or for “old time’s sake.” So, my friends, may I offer these simple and personal reflections of gratitude and gratefulness:

Thank you for everything you do…the big things and the million little things each day.

Thank you for the unique gifts you share, most especially the priceless ones from your heart.

Thank you for bringing JOY to those fortunate enough to know you; I’m grateful to be counted among them!

Thank you for marveling at ordinary days in the most extraordinary ways.

Thank you for simply showing up, paying attention, speaking your truth, and letting go.

Thank you for understanding that it’s ok to not be ok.

Thank you for taking the blank page of each day to write the words as the story unfolds.

Thank you for rewarding others with your smiles, hugs, strength, and comfort.

Thank you for trusting your “circle of persons” as the real treasures in life.

Thank you for doing your personal best and allowing the rest to take care of itself.

Know you are seen, heard, and loved for who you are and what you choose to do in your story. I’ve come to accept how little in life means more than faith, hope, and Love. Gentleness and humor keep my faith, hope, and Love alive because they are everywhere when we seek them. These “big three” are most prominent in ordinary things like cooking a meal, sharing a conversation, laughing from the belly, making music, reading a book, dancing when no one is watching, hugging my family, helping my daddy, and walking in the woods—simple everyday actions where cream gravy soaks in and homemade grace shines through. So, may wondrous dreams and wishes take you to remarkable places as you move into this new year. May an angel gently hold your hand in comfort and strength as you prevail when the storms of life swirl. May quiet time with yourself allow your everyday actions to soak in and grace to shine through as you celebrate all that is in 2025. Happy New Year!

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The blessing of light…

The longest night; the shortest day…Winter Solstice.

Yes; winter is coming (and already here for many of us today).

In a recent conversation with a friend, we shared our collective concerns about continuing to care for a parent with Alzheimer’s. She reminded me of this poem once again and how poignant the connection between the darkness and the light holds space for each of us.  Even as we live through the longer, darker nights of the Winter ahead, may we trust the blessing of light will be near us:

Blessing for the Longest Night (by Jan Richardson)

All throughout these months as the shadows have lengthened,
this blessing has been gathering itself,
making ready, preparing for this night.

It has practiced walking in the dark, traveling with its eyes closed,
feeling its way by memory, by touch by the pull of the moon even as it wanes.

So believe me when I tell you this blessing will reach you
even if you have not light enough to read it;
it will find you even though you cannot see it coming.

You will know the moment of its arriving by your release of the breath you have held so long;
a loosening of the clenching in your hands, of the clutch around your heart;
a thinning of the darkness that had drawn itself around you.

This blessing does not mean to take the night away but it knows its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots along the path,
knows what it means to travel in the company of a friend.

So when this blessing comes, take its hand.
Get up.
Set out on the road you cannot see.

This is the night when you can trust that any direction you go,
you will be walking toward the dawn.

( © Jan Richardson. janrichardson.com )

Wherever you find yourself on this longest night, remember, tomorrow brings a sliver of more light on your journey. Peace and blessings…

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For the love of books…

The freedom to read is a nonpartisan American value. Libraries and books are for EVERYONE.

Those of you who know me personally know I love books, and stories, and poetry, and well, lifelong learning. I also adore libraries, librarians, storytellers (including musicians), and all the folks who work to support and sustain our American library system. Some of my besties are Library Ladies! Some of my fondest memories, most profound life revelations, and contented moments have occurred in a library. Armed with a love of reading, the world opens wide for all to embrace.

So on this final day of Banned Books Week 2024, I’m lifting up libraries for the important resource they are to our communities across this vast country.

This beautiful poem, by the poet Nikki Giovanni called “A Library,” is a favorite…

A Library Is:

a place to be free

to be in space

to be in cave times

to be a cook

to be a crook

to be in love

to be unhappy

to be quick and smart

to be contained and cautious

to surf the rainbow

to sail the dreams

to be blue

to be jazz

to be wonderful

to be you

a place to be

yeah… to be

Please take care of yourself as you find ways to care for others…and READ on, my friends!