Yearly Archives

2019

Promptings of Hope

Glimmers February 21, 2019

Dear Friends,

My son gave me a gift card from Stitch Fix for Christmas.

Have you tried this sort of service? It was new to me, but I was intrigued. I filled out the online form in great detail – sizes, body parts to cover or enhance, style preferences and so on. When Stitch Fix #1 arrived, I kept one item and returned four. Stitch Fix #2? I kept four and returned one! So far, the conversation with the stylist is working. She’s like a Guardian Angel in the world of shopping.

But the part of this arrangement that really captures my interest?  My willingness to “try on” someone else’s point of view about my clothes. Yes, I contribute to the process, but some of the styles that arrive in that box are new to me. I feel brave as I slide into extra skinny jeans or a scalloped edge sweater. Through my willingness to experiment, I give myself permission to explore more sides of my fashion-self.

Sometimes I “try on” feelings or ideas, as well. I give myself the opportunity to adopt a new attitude, even if its just for an afternoon. Last night, as my husband and I lit candles and shared some brandy, I was reminded of our visit to the Woodstock Inn in Vermont. So, our home became Beseck Inn for the night, cozy and charming.

This experimental approach has been helpful to those grieving a loss, as well. Instead of staying home all weekend, Janet decided to attend the library’s book sale to find a book for her niece. She expected people to ask about her husband and anticipated feeling the pain of her loss, but at the same time Janet wanted to stay connected with her neighbors. Her “experiment” created boundaries that protected her still-healing heart, while she explored life around her.

When Janet walked away from the library, she carried seeds of courage and hope. She has a little more confidence in herself. As I wear those skinny  jeans and receive a compliment, I experience much-needed encouragement to heal the shaming wounds from adolescence. Our losses come in all shapes, friends, and they all require our tender care. When we trust grieving’s wise guidance, we learn to hold those losses with love and allow the healing to unfold. 

These days, I’ll wear skinny jeans, drink brandy and thank God for the opportunities around me. I’ll honor the message of Dag Hammarskjold, a former UN Secretary General, with a shout-out to each of you;

“For all that has been – Thanks. For all that will be – Yes.”

 

with affection, Lisa

We begin again…

Glimmers January 13, 2019

Dear Friends,                                                        

I have missed you! I have missed the connection found through this monthly ritual of wondering what light I can offer, of holding you in my heart and mind, of listening deeply for the right words. This month, January 2019, marks five years that I have reached out in this way. When I began, I trusted an invitation that could not be ignored…these Glimmers and our relationship are the foundation for my ministry during five these years, including my books on grief. I am so grateful for each of you.

 

A new year, a new day, a new moment in life… we hear Mary Oliver’s wonderful question,

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one, wild and precious life?”

This wild, precious life of mine has been hard-won. I have climbed steep mountains and sat in lonely darkness. I have also rested in loving arms. For me, life is an unfolding, an unwinding of fibers, some coarse – some intricate lace, each a part of the tapestry that is weaving within and around me. Such is the invitation to authenticity.

What about you, dear friends? What do you plan to do with your one, wild and precious life? I am hoping you embrace the idea that your unique light is needed in this new year, it is gift. I am hoping you trust your light and let it shine! I close with words from Roger Wolsey for your consideration as we begin anew…

“You, the real you, knows the truth. The truth is you aren’t the things that have happened to you, you aren’t the things you’ve done. You aren’t the things you’ve failed to do. You aren’t your wounds or the ones you inflicted. You aren’t your regrets. You aren’t in anyway a should have, could have, or would have.

You are fully human and fully divine. You are the very incarnation of God. No, not the only one, but no less than one.

The unique prism of your life reminds us of who we are too. Thank you for your colors. Thank you for your light. Thank you for being a stained-glass window picture story of glory.”

 

With  affection and gratitude, Lisa