Several years ago while working for the school system, I was in the middle of making a decision about a job transition. Part of the decision was out of my control, and I just had to wait to see my options before I could figure out my next move. I felt anxious about this, so I went to the place I go when I feel uneasy and need some clarity or at least some comfort, the labyrinth, a place I go to commune with God. As I walked the winding path on a cold February day, I lifted up my concerns. “What do I do God?” I asked, “You know I am not good at living in uncertainty.” The answer came, “You will end up exactly where you are meant to be, so you have two choices. You can worry and stress abo
I am going to keep this short and sweet. I debated whether or not I should even post this week. The last six days I have spent most of my time in a hospital room with my dad who has been struggling with COPD for many years. I was sure I would have no inspiration to share with you this week. But this is what came to me. I read a quote recently that said, “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” I nodded my head in agreement and said a little amen when I read that quote. I may have even pinned it to my Pinterest board. But as I sit in this room watching my dad struggle to breath, I am not sure I can fully agree with that statement anymore. I know he is suffering. I’m not sure
Dear You, If you’re looking for someone to kick your butt, to set you straight, to whip you into shape, to show you the err of your ways, to step on your toes…don’t come to me. Please. I will fail you miserably. When I look at you, I see your beauty, your strength, your wisdom, your wholeness. I can’t help myself. Sometimes I think the world has seen this as a defect in me. Some wonder if I am just naïve. Some point out your supposed flaws to me. You tend to point them out to me the most. But all I can see are your infinite possibilities. Even when you are unhappy with where you are, I see you as this tiny but powerful seed, loaded with potential, that when lovingly nurtured grows int
Several days ago I stepped out into the misty rain-filled night to take my gratitude walk. After several minutes of walking, I exhausted my list of gratitudes and allowed my mind to wander. You know the type of thoughts I’m talking about, the kind where I was trying to figure out my life, very lofty thoughts of problems that needed to be resolved and issues that needed to be fixed. “When will I ever move past this? How am I ever going overcome that?” I thought. As my mind was swirling to find answers, my eyes were drawn up to the silhouette of a tall tree in my neighborhood cast against the white night sky. “This is all that matters,” I heard my inner Divine voice say. “This tree?” I
Many years ago when I was in the chronically busy stage of my life, I was driving on the interstate after leaving a full day of work, heading to an appointment, right before I was headed to a meeting, so that I could go home and work on my graduate school homework until as late as 2:00 am, and then wake up in the morning and do it all again. This was my life. My health was a mess, and I was completely exhausted. Suddenly while I was driving, I broke down in tears. “I wish someone would let me off the hook!” I said aloud in frustration. I guess what I was hoping was for someone to pull me aside at one of these meetings, practices, classes, whatever and lovingly say, “Honey, you look exhau
