The Sacredness of a Cup of Tea (or Coffee)

"A cup of tea becomes sacred time when shared with the heart of another." ~ Jules

There are some things one can't write in a public forum because there are people's privacy to protect. So many times, I have wanted to write a blog about an incredible person who has crossed my path but to share the magic of that I’d be sharing personal things about them that might not be helpful to share in public. And other times, I've been tempted to write something not so nice which I quickly realize won't help and is most likely coming from my own unmet expectations.

Perhaps that's why it is so important that we not just write and post and Twitter and Facebook but that we meet face to face, one on one or in trusted circles to share our deeper and messier and lovelier selves. When I find out who the real you is, with all the bumps and pimples and all the bravery and courage, I am even more inspired than I was when I first saw the twinkle and shine in your eyes. It has often been said that "misery loves company" and it is true. It really does help to vent our misery with others AND to discover that we are not alone in it. What we don't notice as often is that "joy loves company" too. Joy shared is gratitude that finds its way to your bones and lives. When we share our vulnerability, when we give voices to our gratitude, it becomes an abundance and that makes the world a better place.

Which brings me to why I haven't been writing more in my blog lately. I have plenty to say but right now I am focusing more energy on in-person, face-to-face meetings; spending more time with real people, with real messes and real victories to share. This is partly the gift of summer and more freedom to get out. (My work increases during the school year) And I Love it. I LOVE, love what happens to my heart, my soul when the real story is shared in real time. I love how the Holy Spirit begins to show up too. I know it takes time, but it is totally worth it. I hope I can keep making time for this.

So, this is an open invitation to you. Consider contacting someone you would like to talk to and setting up a real conversation, maybe add a cup of coffee or tea. Perhaps if we all spend more time sharing our SORROW AND our JOY, we'll stop pushing against each other and instead find ourselves inspired, encouraged and praying for one another.

And now I'm off to share the privilege of time with a friend.

~Jules, 8/28/18

GRATITUDE MONTH--#23: MYSTERIOUS MARVELOUS HOPE

GRATITUDE MONTH #23: Mysterious Marvelous Hope

I wake up to the light of a rising sun
Already my subconscious is calling me to the LIST
Already nagging me about how far behind I am
Could I go any slower? 
The obvious answer is yes!

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes
I ignore the piles I must walk around
to get to the next part of my day
Some days my life just seems
Like one long to-do list
Running through a never-ending pile
Of life's stuff

Then suddenly, the fog lifts 
I find myself working on a project
that's been on hold for two years!?!
It is a complete mystery to me
how this has come about 
And yet here I am making progress
AT LAST! and it feels GREAT!

The patience of our better selves
The patience of grace to plow through the mess
The tenacity of hope for the dream
I wish I could claim credit for it
But I can't. It's a divine grace.

I can only work with gratitude
for the energy and motivation
to tackle the task in the now!
I can only pray for more of this
MYSTERIOUS MARVELOUS HOPE
and the strength to follow through.

with gratitude for this day,

jules

Bitter and Sweet

Life is bittersweet at its heart, perhaps at its best. For it is in those moments of deepest sorrow or pain that we also are suddenly keenly aware of the amazing gifts and beauty of our lives.

I'll never ever forget the 16 months we had with our son Hans after he was diagnosed with stage 4 brain cancer (glioblastoma multiforme) the summer between his 4th and 5th grade years. I can't remember the excruciating pain without also remembering it as one of the best times of our lives. Being faced with the total and complete vulnerability of life for each of us (no matter how healthy) made all those unimportant squabbles and desires melt away. Money and success and being right ceased to matter. All that mattered was love and the moments.

Hans following one of his surgeries.

In some ways it seemed like time stopped. We suddenly had time to enjoy each other and be with each other in ways we hadn't before. We celebrated every day we had together. We went camping, biking, played games, laughed, hung out with extended family. We talked, we sang, we prayed. We hugged and cuddled. We fell in complete love with each other. Honestly, it was an amazing time for us. We lived with joy. Each day was so precious that we closed with a ritual of good night with blessing and goodbye.

Of course, one day we did say goodbye forever as Hans moved on to the next life. (September 28, 2000) And of course there was some pretty wrenching and dark days of mourning to follow. But even those gave birth to a deeper sense of gratitude and honor for this sweet person we were privileged to have among us, even for a short time. And eventually that expanded to a deeper gratitude for all of life, however flawed it is.

What I'm trying to say, is that the bitter and the sweet are so closely tied, that I can't separate them. I'm not arguing for cause and effect, just for the constant companionship of them both in my life. Bitter whispers in one ear with how tragic life is and Sweet sings in the other how fantastic and amazing it is. And peace grows in me, I am transformed, as I learn to dance with both these partners.

Peace!
Jules, 9/2/2016

The Basement Excavation: Giving Thanks for the Connections

In the silence of the early morning, I stopped to meditate for a bit, to ponder. I became overwhelmed with gratitude for this knowing in my bones that I am not alone, that Love, that God, that all of you are with me. I have spent a lot of my life longing for connection (due in part to the conditions of my childhood growing up in a boarding school).

Later, down in the basement, the box I picked up to go through contained all of the sympathy cards sent to us after our son Hans died fifteen years ago. As I threw them into the recycling, I opened each one to read the names signed inside. I just wanted to see the names again. A feeling of gratitude washed over me and stopped me in my tracks. I am so thankful for the community of people whose threads of love held us up during that dark time.

As part of my ongoing longing to connect, I signed up for Facebook long before many of my peers. As a result I was able to "find" people I had lost track of. But Facebook itself is a surreal place. It is not a place of real connection, of real relationship but it is a place where we can come and remember how connected we are. As I have been going through decades of letters, cards and notes, I am experiencing the same thing there. Those letters and cards are not the real relationship but they are a reminder of all the connections my family has had over the years. Honestly, if I had to count them all, there would be hundreds of people over the years that have woven their threads with ours. Perhaps that is part of the answer of why my mom and her parents saved so many of their letters--as visible reminders of those connections. I can't say I blame them. Sometimes when we feel so alone, we need those reminders. It can help to have someone call or text or send you little note on email.

Brene Brown says humans are "wired for connection." This is certainly true in my case. There have been times when I have felt so alone, so separate from family, from friends and even from God. The longing to connect has sometimes been a physical pain in my body. But always when I pause to look and listen, to meditate and ponder, I notice there are threads there. You are there! And I fill up with gratitude and realize I have enough, more than enough.

So if I haven't thanked you lately, for weaving your threads with mine, consider yourself thanked! Friends like you, are worth more than all the gold!

THANK YOU! MERCI BEAUCOUP! MANGE TUSEN TAKK! MISAOTRA!

The Basement Excavation: the 100th Box!

“Letting go is hard (really hard) but sometimes holding on is harder.” ~ Anonymous quote.

“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on” ~ Eckhart Tolle

What's the greater risk? Letting go of what people think - or letting go of how I feel, what I believe, and who I am? Brene Brown

_______________________________________________________

(NOTE: I did not say last box...I said 100th box!)

Today, just today, I went through my 100^th box! Of the boxes I have gone through, I have emptied 62 boxes! This means that most of those 62 boxes has ended up in the recycling bin by our garbage…and a few have made it to the thrift store. I am 8 weeks in to my commitment to attack 2 boxes per day. Of the boxes that are not empty, an additional 15 are scheduled to be given to other people; mostly old Malagasy books. And though I still have umpteen photo/negatives/slide boxes to go through, I am pausing to celebrate my progress.

Wow! The 100^th box! When I started I was very skeptical about getting even this far. I didn’t even count the boxes past 100 because I never believed I’d make it that far. This is amazing, so miraculous! I am not even sure that I can take credit for it even though I have felt each box in my bones and heart as I’ve sorted and emptied. A lot of tears have been shed. A lot of deep breaths have been let go. There have been many days when the instinct to hold on was stronger than the the need to let go. I can honestly say I am getting better at it though. Little by little I’m beginning to feel the power of letting go like Eckhart Tolle says in his quote (see above). Little by little, I am beginning to notice that along with the stuff, I’m letting go of old definitions of strength, of family, of connections. I’m letting go of what people think, of perceived expectations and focusing more on what I need to do to be healthy, what my family needs. Little by little, I am beginning to believe that my life after this will be freer, lighter; that I won’t be carrying this burden of stuff so I’ll have room to give more of my heart to other adventures.

So I am nearing the end of going through boxes of papers (which were mostly letters and scrapbook savings). Soon I will be going through a couple dozen boxes of old photos/slides/negatives. As I head that direction, I want to offer my gratitude to all of those who have offered me support and understanding in this process. I never dreamed I would get this far. Thank you!

~Jules

The Basement Excavation: Facing Grief and Finding Treasure

The Basement Excavation—Day #17

So far I’ve been faithful to my commitment to go through two boxes each day. There is a growing stack of empty boxes in one corner. I hope that empty stack continues to grow but not every box gets thrown. Though clearing is the ultimate goal, throwing it all out is not the immediate goal. The idea is to go through everything, taking the time to painstakingly acknowledge all of it and get a grip on the reality of what IT really is.

In some cases, I’ve been able to throw a whole box right away. I am grateful for those easy ones, where the choice is obvious. In others, I’ve opened, looked through a few things and said, “Okay, I’m not ready for that one until later.” This is an acceptable response but I know eventually I will have to deal with those too. And then there have been those moments of profound encounter with something deep within.

Case #1: A gift from Dad

Two weeks ago, on a Saturday, I was leading a writing workshop on journaling. As part of my presentation I told those who came about what I had learned from my dad about the Lord’s Prayer. I was telling them how he used to encourage people to use the Lord’s Prayer to pray about specific things in their life. The next day I am down in the basement. I open a box and sitting right on top is the old Lutheran Standard article which my dad wrote about just that. With tears of gratitude I grabbed the article, and closed the rest of the box (for now). It was if Dad was encouraging me, letting me know he was happy to share this gift with me. I scanned it into my computer for future reference and to save it in new way. I have no idea what will happened to that article in the next generation but by then I will have shared it with many and the ripples will be enough inheritance to share.

Case #2: Encountering Hans 15 years later

Just a few days ago, I had a really busy day but in the free hour that I had I decided to suck it up and head down to do a few boxes. I saw an unmarked box in the middle of the room and wanted to have an idea what was in it. Initially unreachable, I climbed and squeezed in to where I could get a look. I opened the box and there was Hans’ stuff. As the tears started to form, I sifted through the random collection of junk. I have begun to notice that the more ridiculous the item, the more it triggers my grief. Why? Because the ridiculous stuff, the stuff that holds no intrinsic value is there only because my son cared about it. This box of apparent nothingness is classic Hans. And yet we still have to let go of most of it. Letting go brings a new wellspring of grief…that very really emotion as we experience the physical separation once again. I can’t express enough how physical grief really is.

Initially I find it odd and unsettling that such a box of junk can mean so much to me but there it is. Without the physical connection to my son, these stupid little things taking up space clearly give me a sudden material connection to the reality of my sons’ life before and now.

The sudden desire to speak to him, to see him in the flesh again is unbearable and the tears are unstoppable. This is the part of de-cluttering that takes more than determination and a good self-help book to conquer. This takes a breath and a prayer and some emotional support. Here I must stand with the grief, allow the tears and honor the pain as well as the joy. I may have to take a couple days to process before I am ready to let go. I may need to bring my husband alongside for this part of the journey. And even so, there is hope just in the fact that I am able to choose this work. 

The Basement Excavation: A family history of saving and grief.

Ash Wednesday was ten days ago and much like many other people I've decided to try a new spiritual practice during the 40 days of Lent that follow it. I've decided to practice getting rid of things, letting go of the past, letting go of stuff, and in some cases letting go of commitments. this is a very personal journey. It is not the first time I've told myself, I am going to de-clutter; I'm going to let go. "Easier said than done" is understatement.

Looking back on a history of family saving
I was born into a family of savers (some might call them pack rats). There were some very logical and practical reasons for the saving over the generations. We didn't have much money. My mom had grown up moving around a lot.  Our family, in turn, also moved a lot, traveled a lot. Along the way, as you travel, you collect things. My parents were missionaries on the island of Madagascar so we couldn't just run to the store for new things. We were thrifty, using the same clothes, books, toys over and over again. We saved them, took care of them and were able to enjoy them for more than one generation. This served my family well for a long time. it was a good habit that taught us to be good stewards of what we had. It also taught us to save things we would never need to use again.

In addition, there are family historians on both sides of my family; in particular my mom's side. Before the dawn of the digital age, these ancestors, including my grandfather, kept diaries, extensive family tree information, took wonderful photographs and slides and even wrote books. My grandfather had a habit of saving all his correspondence (every letter he wrote or received) some of which serve to narrate his family relationships.  He wrote about 40 books, most not published but there are copies for his children. He had his own library. So for my siblings and I, our inheritance consisted mainly of a shed full of books, letters, photographs, slides and boxes with various sentimental and practical things that my parents thought we would use after they were done with it. They meant well. Our parents were trying to help and somehow, as the youngest child, it all ended up in my lap, my basement. And I added some of my own.

Storing my Grief
Over the years I have explored several theories and justifications and analysis for the behavior of hanging on to stuff. The reason that stands out above the rest is grief. I was born in Madagascar, spending most of my time in an Eden-like setting on the southern tip of the island with vacations with my parents in the capital city. For me Ft. Dauphin and Tananarive, Madagascar are my home towns, but there is no home in either one of them to go back to. So when I left, I took what i could with me and hung on to those possessions, notes, diaries, photographs with all my might. I took my home with me. When my parents died, I welcomed their treasures from those places too. It was then I realized they had been taking a piece of home along with them too.

Grief, in its darkest moment, is the excruciating pain of separation from those people and places you love. It makes sense to me then that in those darkest days of grief, we just hung on to what we could of those lost relationships, those lost places.

When I was 17 I left my home in Madagascar for the last time. I have never been back. When I was 27 my dad died. When I was 41 my third son Hans died of brain cancer. Six months later, my best friend died. Several years later my mom died. With each death, each separation, each new wound of grief, I hung on to the pieces of those places and relationships that I could, much like my parents and grandparents had before. And all the while the basement filled up with my grief.

By the time I was in a better place, I didn't want to return to the boxes, the stuff I had stored. I just wanted to live in the joy that I could. Above ground, above the grief, I went on with my life (a pretty joyful life) but every time I walked through the basement, I was reminded. The pile was growing and it was serving me less and less.

So here I am, years later. The boys are grown up and have homes of their own. Pete and I are grandparents. It's Day #11 of my commitment. I've gone through at least 2 boxes each day. Pete is making the first haul to the thrift store. Our recycling container is full. There is a long, long way to go. I've done the easy stuff first. But there is hope.

There is hope.

LIFE IS JUST MESSY

This idea that if we are on the right track, all things align and if we are on the wrong track, all things are bumpy is a myth. Bad things happen to bad people and to good people.. Life is just messy. I am no more immune from these mishaps than you. What we perceive as good things happening, also seems to be sometimes random and sometimes purposeful.

Breathe easy my friend. We are all in this mess together. The magic is not in the success or failure but in the way LOVE flows through us, bringing healing in every situation, bringing wholeness and connection. The magic is not that I didn't get ill this winter but that through the illness my heart was drawn to tenderness and trust and love once again. The miracle is that when I needed it, my body told me to rest and I listened.

I don't mean to keep repeating myself about my experience with Hans but I learned a lot from that day in 1999 when the radiologist told me my 10-year-old son had a brain tumor. Up to that point, I had all the ingredients of a "successful" and "blessed" life--happy marriage to my best friend, wonderful healthy children, enough money to allow me to stay home with them, an active church community, good schools, and good friends and nearby family. I thought I had it made. Does the cancer and all the fall-out from it mean that I was on the wrong track? Does the fact that my son died, 16 months later, mean that my prayers weren't heard? and the list of questions goes on.

This is an extreme example and that's why I bring it up. When I look back on my son's life and death and all that has transpired since, all I feel is love and gratitude. Would I take my son back in heartbeat? YES. Would I trade places with him? YES> Would I trade my heart back to that woman i was before he he got cancer? NO. LOVE prevailed even if luck did not. Certainly then, Love can overcome my error on those days when it seems like all I do is folly and the entire universe seems to be calling me a "loser!"

I believe in a force more powerful than any mistake I can make or evil that can fall upon me. I believe in God's creative and redeeming LOVE, a force so amazing that it even touches the crazy and tangled Jules...me!

Sending you love and grace,

jules

Where Everything Meets

Thought for the day/week/month:

"In our most authentic experience of faith, everything we know and have experienced meets and we look for  wisdom and understanding in it. Questions love stopping in for these precious moments." ~ Jules

One Week

Sunday

peaceful sun dancing through the leaves
providing a laser show on my wall
early paddles splashing across the lake
wisdom and song and hearts shared
through the ritual of spiritual community
family time, home time, 
a campfire song fest for the 21st century
friend time, community time
Sunday (9/7/14)

Monday
cold gray gloomy day
the alarm of tasks unfinished wakes me
somber stillness outside
hyper vigilant multitasking dragonflies
flitting about my brain inside
focus and produce is the goal
yesterday's hours with a friend were too short
today's hours of work seem too long
Monday (9/8/14)

Tuesday
an obscure day of the week
not the beginning nor the hump, 
nor the celebrated end
just an in between place
where all is not lost and all is not found
where time seems to stall 
the clouds and rain seem to know 
so I'll tempt the chiropractor to fix the kinks
lunch on the sunshine of friendship
then jump back into the fray and take my chances
the gray continues with a threat of blessing
Tuesday  (9/9/14)

Wednesday 
hump implies that we climbed up 
and now we are going to slide down, easily
although i am doubting the "easy"
but perhaps it is a camel's hump or a Brahman cow
perhaps hump means this is where the reserves are
maybe today holds the extra something
that we need to get through the rest of the week
I'm going to look under ever seat cushion
and up in every tree
I bet I'll find that extra something somewhere
Wednesday (9/10/14)

Thursday 
almost there
excited spirits lifted
like the pink at sunrise
amid the breaking clouds
there is something so wonderful
about almost reaching the end
hope rises for a moment over coffee
or early happy hours at the local tavern
plans are being made for the fun ahead
is my attention span so small for the week?
the phone rings, the timer beeps
there is still work to be done
so I'm diving back in
resolving
sigh
Thursday (9/11/14)

  

Friday
Finally! Right?
the day God gets the most kudos for
because we say our work week ends here
but now that it's here am I satisfied?
I feel a slight shift in pressure
from getting work done 
to being able to have a good time
often forgetting to plan for my fun
and within that failure
is the gift of a quiet evening
with my beloved
by the fire
Friday (9/12/14)

Saturday 
sleep in? not me
wake up early
for a long day of rest
or gettin' chores done
or going to events
it's the day many get to be
for better or worse
their own boss
like it or not
you can't do it all
on this one day
so hope this time around
it was fun
Saturday 9/13/14

Epilogue
Every day is another 24 hours

to notice, to ponder, to wander

to give and take

to love and forgive

to connect and cherish each other

to celebrate the life you have

to dream of delight and flowers

sing another song, dance another jig

Every day is hello and goodbye

YES and Oops! and oh Well!

and THANK YOU!

Everyday--Gratitude

~take care, Jules

SING A NEW TUNE

What if today we practice being fully present, if even for just a few minutes?

Perhaps just step outside your door.
or pause on the way to the car.
Stop and look around you.
Take in the beauty.
take in the chaos.
Take in the order.
Ponder the abundance.
Learn the flowers
Listen to the leaves
Feel the sun's kiss
or the rains gentle baptism
Wonder about the earth's embrace
Smile back and walk on.
Notice gratitude
Breathe the light
Sing a new tune

have a great day everyone!
love, jules
(6/24/2014)

A blessing for All Saints Day

November 1, 2013--all Saints' Day

The definition of "saint" according to dictionary.com is "a person of great virtue, holiness, and benevolence." Well then I had to look up virtue, holiness and benevolence.Then words like "moral excellence, goodness, righteousness" and "sacred, pious, devote" and "charitable, kind." Wow! How does any one human or otherwise, manage all that?!? Do you suddenly feel as if an impenetrable brick wall is before you? If so, you are in good company. Even many of the so called saints have had those same feelings. The truth is we are all saints and sinners...and even more than that, we are stew...made up of all the parts, onions, meat, root vegetables, greens, spices and water. In fact it is when we throw all the parts together that a delicious stew is created. Perhaps that could be the definition of saint...a person who has become delicious stew.

Anyway, however you feel about your holiness, here is a blessing for you this day:

Oh sweet and messy one
May the fog lift so you can see

May the guilt fall through the cracks

May your disappointment melt into the ground

As your wings stretch out and unfurl

And your heart opens to the morning sun

A fresh new day, each day a fresh new you being born

Perhaps life is nothing more than that

A series of short (24 hour) lives in which

Stretching your arms out wide

and singing yourself a tune

You experience the joy of testing flight

The delight of tasting the delicious messiness of the stew

All the onions and veggies, meat and water mixed together

My dear and wonderful human being

All of you is love and loved

You are delicious stew

All of you

blessings on you,

jules