Redemption

Quiet winds of change gently roll in and meet the old, sleeping, dying parts of your soul. They begin moving things around, stirring things up, whispering promises into the emptiness within you. They whisper promises of new life. Promises of revival. Promises of hope.

Tonight you said to me you were sorry for unloading so much dirt on me. Do you not know that we all carry dirt? Do you not understand how beautiful it is when you unload it? Do you not realize it is the dirt that makes us human, that connects us, that unites us?

Please do not apologize for the dirt.

Please do not apologize for being human.

Please do not apologize for being you.

You are so much more than you think you are.

You are full of light, full of beauty, full of magic.

You are goodness in physical form.

You are good.

Dirt and all.

You are good.

Perhaps it is your dirt that most makes you good. Perhaps it is your pain, your struggle, your story. Because it is in the pain, in the struggle, in the dirt that greatness is born.

So when the quiet winds of change gently roll in and collide with the old, sleeping, dying parts of your soul, know that they are not there to push those parts of you out. The winds of change move things around and stir things up, but they do not say to the worn parts of yourself, “you are worthless and not needed here.” Instead, these winds of change look at the worn and weary parts of yourself and say, “oh, dear friend. You are beautifully broken and delightfully human. Let us remind you of how good you are.”

And the winds of change do their work.

They whisper promises of new life. They sing to your soul a new melody. They call it back to life as you begin to remember that you were made to be exactly who you are.

And this is your redemption.

This moment when you realize you are exactly who you are meant to be.

And you are good.

Dirt and all.

You are good.

Resilient

Resilient.

We are resilient.

But what does it mean to be resilient?

To be resilient is to be characterized or marked by resilience, and resilience is defined as “the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties,” “toughness,” or even “elasticity.” Picture a tree standing tall in the midst of windy storms and torrential rain. Or a flower continuing to grow after being stepped on; a boat sailing onward despite the raging waves; the sun shining bright on even the coldest of winter days. Nature reveals its resilience to us over and over again with the seasons. Year after year, the natural world endures many difficulties as it is exposed to wind, fire, and water – all in varying temperatures that add to the severity of it all. And year after year, though it may come near death during the winter months, forest fires, or ice storms, nature proves itself resilient as new life springs forth all around us. Flowers bloom underneath a dusting of snow; trees grow new leaves each spring; beauty comes forth from ashes.

We, too, are resilient.

I have seen families stand tall when storms rage all around them. I have seen children rise up despite their unfortunate circumstances. I have seen individuals continue moving onward towards their dreams, though the tides may not be flowing in their favor. And I have seen many shine bright light in times of great sorrow and in places of great darkness.

We, too, are resilient.

Deep within each of us burns a flame that cannot be extinguished. It may grow faint in times of trouble, but it will never burn out completely. We may lose sight of the flame burning inside us from time to time, but light it still shines. This is our resilience. This is our strength. It reveals itself in moments of weakness, coming when we least expect it. When we think we have not an ounce of strength left in us, something keeps us going. When we think we have reached the end, the light inside us flickers and reminds us that we are still alive and life is still worth living. It reminds us that there is still strength within us. It reminds us that we are resilient.

We have the capacity to recover.

We are strong.

We can keep going.

We will rise up.

For we are resilient.

The Grace of Autumn

The sun peaks from behind the clouds, creating shadows of the yellow leaves dancing freely in the wind. As you sit in stillness and sip your coffee, you find yourself thinking about the Grace behind it all.

Grace in each falling leaf that floats gently to the ground who welcomes it gladly.

Grace in the sound of birds bidding each other farewell before flying south for the winter.

Grace in the way hot coffee meets your lips and spills down your throat, warming you from the inside out.

Grace in each breath that creation takes.

You consider the invitation that has been extended to you, the invitation to learn the unforced rhythms of Grace. You remember how Grace has consistently reached her soft hand out to you, inviting you to walk with her so she can show you how to take a real rest.

And it becomes real to you know.

This Grace.

As you realize this Grace has been abounding all around you for all this time.

As you realize it is through this Grace that you can live freely and lightly.

As you realize it is through this Grace that you can find truth and recover your life.

Your weary eyes refocus on the leaves dancing in the sunlight before they fall Gracefully to the earth below. And you, too, surrender to the precious gravity of Grace, falling beneath her pull as she leads you into something new and beautiful.

And it becomes real to you now.

This Grace.

The Grace of autumn.

Thoughts on Trust, Travel, and Trying Again

What are you to do when your dreams come crashing down in one of the most traumatic ways possible? When your plans and efforts are brushed off the table like the chocolate-covered crumbs left from your coffee cake? When you are left with nothing but questions, answers that don’t satisfy, and more questions? When you are filled with fear, doubt, disappointment, and despair? What are you to do when you reach into the very bottom of something, when you dive deep into a well, and there is nothing there?

You feel empty, deserted, dreamless, lost.

What do you do when you feel this way?

You trust.

You trust in your resilience.

You trust in your ability to keep going, to dream new dreams.

You trust that this is all part of it. Part of the flow of life.

You trust that there is something bigger at work, something outside yourself.

And you trust that this higher power outside of you is within you, too.

There is an unstoppable force at work in the world, and it is at work within you.

It will not stop until things are good and right, until things are whole.

It will not let you slip through the cracks.

It will not abandon you.

This unstoppable force will pick you up and carry you with it as it moves all of creation into something new and beautiful.

So if this unstoppable force is taking you away from your dreams of living in Ireland this summer, there must be something better it is taking you to. There must be a bigger dream to dream.

So though your travel plans have been ripped out from underneath you, and though you feel as if there is nothing to go home to, do not lose hope.

Do not give up.

Trust that there is something bigger and better at work.

Travel as much as you can to new places, even if it is to new places within the mind when you are stuck living at home.

And try again.

Dream a bigger dream.

Answering the Unanswerable

How do you answer hard questions?

Questions like “why did this incredible person get diagnosed with cancer?” or “why did this person die so young?”

Questions like “why are thousands of people dying of starvation?” or “why was there another school shooting?”

Questions like “how could a loving God allow this to happen?” or “is there even a god?”

How do you answer hard questions when every answer seems like an oversimplification?

How do you answer hard questions when every answer has some sort of hole in the logic and just doesn’t quite add up?

How do you answer hard questions when there seem to be no answers?

Perhaps you answer the unanswerable by simply admitting there is no answer.

Perhaps you allow yourself to reckon with doubt, pain, and turmoil in this place of uncertainty.

Perhaps you answer the unanswerable by asking a new question, a question with an answer: how do I respond to this?

You cannot bring the dead back to life, but you can love the ones you have with more intention, more passion.

You cannot eliminate world hunger in one day, but you can actively work towards it by helping one person at a time.

You cannot prove that there is a god, but you can devote yourself to living in such a way that brings more goodness and more light to a dark world.

For it is often in the darkness where you find great light.

It is often in the doubt where you find resilient hope.

It is often in the pain where you find full healing.

So do not run from the darkness, the doubt, the pain.

Do not settle for oversimplified answers when they do nothing for you.

Do not buy the falsified logic only to bury your turmoil deep within you.

Do not try to answer the unanswerable.

Instead, ask a new question.

When you watch a parent bury the child, ask yourself how you can respond.

When you hear of another school shooting, and feel your heart shatter into pieces, ask yourself how you can respond.

When you question your faith (or lack of), ask yourself how you can respond.

Respond to the unanswerable with new questions.

Respond to the doubt with more hope.

Respond to the darkness with more light.

Respond to the hate with more love.

And in this reckoning, you will someday find peace.

Light

Have you ever paused to spend a moment or two looking at the light?

I do not mean zoning out with your eyes fixated on a lamp in a house, like a half-dead creature.

I do not mean simply gazing up at the sun, in doing so causing yourself to go half-blind.

I do not mean merely staring thoughtlessly at the moon, getting lost in its cool tones.

What I want to know is if you have ever looked at the way the light breaks through. No, not the light itself, but the way the light interrupts the darkness. Have you ever zoomed out and observed it, pondered it, turned it over and over in your mind?

Light itself is beautiful and powerful. This we know. But perhaps even more beautiful, more powerful, is the way light interrupts the darkness.

Walk through a forest on a sunny day. As the sun rises, it will slowly make its way through the dense canopy of leaves, creating beautiful shadows that dance before you on the forest floor. It will peek through branches, playing a glittering game of hide-and-seek with your eyes. When autumn comes, the sun will set red, yellow, and orange leaves ablaze, creating a captivating golden masterpiece. Look above you, you will see glimpses of the light. Look around you, you will see evidence of the light. But look only at the light and you will miss the beauty that is only created when darkness and light interact.

The light itself is indeed beautiful and powerful. But have you ever looked at the way the light breaks through and interrupts the darkness?

Stand under the night sky on a clear winter’s night. As the sun dips below the earth, a new light makes itself known to us. Glittering dots of light, known to us as stars, begin popping up in the blackness of the night sky. Some appear to stand alone, others collaborate with fellow specks of light to create images and patterns, known to us as constellations. Sometimes, as you stare up at a night sky littered with these beautiful balls of light, you will see light dart quickly across the void. Known to us as shooting stars, these quick flashes of light send excitement coursing through our veins. Stars interrupt the darkness, breaking through the black night sky, and create one of the most beautiful scenes known to man. This beautiful scene would be lost, however, without the darkness. Look only at the light and you will miss the beauty that is only created when darkness and light interact.

The light itself is indeed beautiful and powerful. But have you ever looked at the way the light breaks through and interrupts the darkness?

Look at yourself. Take a mental step out of your body and examine yourself from a new perspective. Do not be alarmed at the darkness you see, the darkness your eyes are likely first drawn to. We all have darkness within us. Each and every one of us. Darkness for you may look like a history of broken relationships, battles with depression, crimes committed, or a looming sense that you have no purpose. The darkness is disheartening. I know because I have spent much time looking at it. But in my time looking at the darkness within me, I have discovered something beautiful: there is also great light.

Take another look at yourself. Do you see the light? It exists in you always. It reveals itself in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you walk and talk. It peeks through the canopy of leaves that sometimes covers your mind. It darts across the empty void of your broken heart. Oh yes, there is great light within you. It breaks through the darkness in you. It interrupts it. The light in you is radiant and resilient. It will not be outdone by darkness; it will not be extinguished. But remember, it is not merely the light that is beautiful. Look only at the light and you will miss the beauty that is only created when darkness and light interact.

Have you ever paused to spend a moment or two looking at the light?

I do not mean zoning out with your eyes fixated on a lamp in a house, like a half-dead creature.

I do not mean simply gazing up at the sun, in doing so causing yourself to go half-blind.

I do not mean merely staring thoughtlessly at the moon, getting lost in its cool tones.

What I want to know is if you have ever looked at the way the light breaks through. No, not the light itself, but the way the light interrupts the darkness. Have you ever zoomed out and observed it, pondered it, turned it over and over in your mind?

Light itself is beautiful and powerful. This we know. But perhaps even more beautiful, more powerful, is the way light interrupts the darkness.

The Night You Felt It

A weight hangs over you.

But it is different than the weight you know.

It is not heavy or burdensome.

It is light.

And it hangs over you.

A certain magic abounds all around you.

It is different than anything you’ve seen before.

Yet it is still familiar.

And it is welcomed.

This magic abounds all around you.

A special feeling overcomes you.

It is spilling out of you, filling the room.

It is good.

It is freedom.

And this freedom overcomes you.

Become one with this moment.

Notice your feet on the ground, your arms wrapped around you.

Notice your voice rising to join with hundreds of others to sing.

Notice your breath, your heartbeat, your alive-ness.

Become one with this moment.

Let yourself break.

Feel the pain of being broken, beaten, bruised.

Feel the pain of your heart shattering into pieces.

Feel the pain of being lost and confused.

Let yourself break.

And then let yourself heal.

Grab hold of the hand that Love extends to you, be whole and complete.

Grab hold of the hand that Grace extends to you, pick yourself up off the floor.

Grab hold of the hand that your Dreams extend to you, remember why you are here.

Let yourself heal.

For so long you have been far from yourself.

You have stumbled through the darkness.

You have straggled through the wasteland.

You have wandered through the wilderness.

For so long you have been far from yourself.

But tonight you find yourself.

You find your spirit.

You find your body.

You find your soul.

Tonight you find yourself.

And you come home.

It is a glorious homecoming to yourself.

You had lost yourself, but now you have found yourself.

You had forgotten yourself, but now you have remembered yourself.

You had stopped loving yourself, but now you love again.

It is a glorious homecoming to yourself.

Tonight is the night you find all you need.

Tonight is the night you find hope, joy, love, and peace.

Tonight is the night you set yourself free.

Tonight is the night you find yourself.

Tonight is the night you find all you need.

On Getting Over Someone

At 11:00pm on February 14 – Valentine’s Day – of 2019, I find myself asking:

How do you get over someone?

Getting over someone looks different for every person who suffers from a broken heart. But this is what it looks like for me:

It looks a lot like sobbing in a parked car, face buried in your hands that hold a pool of your tears, crying out to whatever higher power exists or doesn’t exist and begging for the belief that better is coming.

It looks a lot like screaming in anger when you’re alone, straining to convince yourself that you hate the person who broke your heart, using as many profane words as your hurting brain can conceive to describe them (asshole, dick, fucking piece of shit…).

It looks a lot like fake laughing with friends and coworkers and lying when they ask how you’re doing… replying “good,” when in reality everything inside you is shattered into a billion pieces like a destroyed stained glass window.

It looks a lot like thinking you’re mentally insane because you find yourself simultaneously hating every ounce of his being and thinking he is the greatest person in the world. You both want nothing to do with him and crave to be with him. You want to ask if he will enjoy the unusually warm February night with you by walking around the Arboretum. You want to call him and tell him the little things you always told him about, the things you both got excited about, but you also never want to hear his fucking voice ever again.

It looks a lot like doubting everything you thought to be true. Doubting yourself. Doubting what you had with him. Doubting your perception of reality. Not just past reality but present reality too. You blame yourself for everything and want to kill yourself because how could you have believed a lie and fallen so hard for someone that would fall for someone else? How could you pour so much of yourself into someone that would take it all then leave you? How could you be so stupid?

And it looks a lot like leaning on your friends. The friends you don’t deserve. The friends who have been there all along, but who you let slip away unnoticed because you were so caught up in this man who you let steal your heart. These are the ones who never left you. The ones who always believed in you, the ones who have always seen and known your worth, and who told you and treated you like you were enough.

It looks a lot like convincing yourself that by yourself, you are still whole. Convincing yourself that you will be okay, which looks a lot like going on drives and late night walks, getting tattoos, listening to music that YOU love, and planning to move to Europe.

And it took this, this heartbreak, to bring you here. To bring you to this place of realizing your worth and wholeness. The pain is crippling, but the resulting growth is liberating. So even here, amidst the crying, screaming, laughing, doubting, and hurting… even here, there is still light.

And by holding on to this light, which exists both in your friends and in yourself, while you trudge through the darkness of tears and nightmares and tragedy, is how you get over someone.

When Glory Takes Your Hand

Do you hear it?

The gentle whisper in your ear?

Do you see it?

The faint mist falling like soft tears?

Do you smell it?

The fresh air filtering through your nostrils into your lungs?

Do you taste it?

The subtle sweetness lingering on your tongue?

Do you feel it?

The radiant glory that quietly takes your hand?

Glory takes you by the hand and says,

“Here, let me show you something.”

Glory takes you by the hand and leads you,

Through summer, autumn, winter, spring.

She turns your eyes away from darkness,

To behold her great light.

She turns your eyes away from pain and sorrow,

To give you new sight.

It is now, in glory’s hands, that you see new life bursting forth all around you.

There is glory dancing all around us,

Glory in starry night skies spent next to a fire ablaze.

There is glory dancing all around us,

Glory in shadows created by trees and the bright sun’s rays.

There is glory dancing all around us,

Glory in mountains, oceans, the sunrise and sunset.

There is glory dancing all around us,

Glory in people, in music, in all the paintings at the MET.

There is glory dancing all around us,

Glory in you and glory in me, all you must do is choose to see.

So.

Do you hear it?

The gentle whisper in your ear?

Do you see it?

The faint mist falling like soft tears?

Do you smell it?

The fresh air filtering through your nostrils into your lungs?

Do you taste it?

The subtle sweetness lingering on your tongue?

Do you feel it?

The radiant glory that quietly takes your hand?

When You Saw Her

The weight of the world is resting on your shoulders,

But you placed it there.

The voices of doubt are shouting in your ears,

But you placed them there.

The thoughts of hate take you down like giant boulders,

But you placed them there.

You are the weight.

You are the doubt.

You are the hate.

Why do you torture yourself?

When you saw her,

You were moved by compassion.

When you saw her,

You were brought to tears.

When you saw her,

You were given new passion.

Though only seen in the mind’s eye,

This young girl taught you something new.

Though only seen in the mind’s eye,

This young girl gave to you and because of her you grew.

But then the illusion suddenly became clear,

As you realized this young girl was you.

You saw yourself as you saw her:

A young child full of beauty, light, and grace.

You saw yourself as you saw her:

A young child figuring things out, making mistakes.

You saw yourself as you saw her:

A young child worthy of love, needing a firm embrace.

So why do you torture yourself?

Stop torturing yourself,

And let go of the weight, the doubt, the hate.

Stop torturing yourself,

And embrace the young girl you saw.

Stop torturing yourself,

And see yourself as you are: a work of art to celebrate.