Rebuild to Restore

We're still talking a lot about walls these days and continuing to build them between one another to boot. There's a very poetic statement made by a man called Isaiah who lived long ago. He says, "You will be called the repairer of broken walls, the restorer of streets where people live." I wonder about the meaning of his words a lot these days. 

Judgment and condemnation are still easy choices for us right now. Our assumptions tend toward the worst as we inhale soundbites and regurgitate them all in the same breath. That bit might be sort-of impressive if it weren't so sad. I wonder how we move forward and when we'll genuinely decide that the fighting just isn't worth it anymore. And, not because the causes don't matter, but because we begin to see how they matter more than we know. 

The walls this man spoke of were walls of protection, previously existing boundary lines that had been removed through violence. Restoring them meant ushering people back into safety and care. Restoring them meant bringing people home to experience life. 

Home is a powerful reality. We can actually offer it wherever we go. It's meant to be a place of belonging, a refuge, an experience of being seen and a place to contribute. Not everyone grew up in safety, I know. But consider the ability we have in our lives to create spaces and environments where people are welcomed, restored, known and cared for well. Imagine what happens when, as individuals and business owners and employees and community members, we stand and say, "Hey, you're valuable... Help me to understand." And, "Let me help." And, "Here's how you can help." We're all needed, after all.

If you haven't guessed, this won't come as a surprise: I'm so weary of the "us" and "them." The worst of them on a bad day is all of us. The best of them on a good day is all of us. We're connected in ways that we can't measure. By the way, It works the other way around, too.

Instead of pointing out problems, let's design solutions. Let's ask questions. Let's get out of our comfort zones and go meet one of "them."  

Let's choose to rebuild and restore people back into life. Let's rebuild the walls of protection. Let's dismantle, not establish, structures that prevent people from experiencing safety and care. Let's get to work restoring the streets where people live by being good neighbors in whatever neighborhood we find ourselves in that day. Let's create companies that give back to our communities with a genuine intention for care and connection. Let's consider the true ramifications of our decisions on those around us. 

We wake up each morning with a fresh opportunity to contribute health and wholeness to the world. Our contribution begins in our very thoughts and the intention we choose for the day—for ourselves and the people we encounter. We can change so much simply by living powerful lives of restoration and care. It all begins with our personal decision to unwaveringly demonstrate our freedom. We can design new realities that ensure home is a protected place for all life to flourish. Let's get to it.

So Many Thoughts

Has anyone ever asked you, through their words or through their actions, to accept crumbs from the table? Like the remnant of a lovely meal, these bits are extended as a token gesture of goodwill. Perhaps the offer arrives mingled with a hope that this morsel is sufficient to gratify. You're too valuable not to keep around, after all. And you guess at this truth, though you don't experience your value in that room and near that table. But, maybe the hint of the possibility of access to "the more" satisfies your appetite for a while. 

Here's the thing... You're worth so much more than crumbs from a table. You're worthy of sitting at that table, sought out, enjoyed and, wait for it, fed well. And before you know it, you start to realize that you really are hungry for a good meal. The crumbs aren't cutting it anymore. Nope. They're just not enough.

May I encourage you in something? Please accept the invitation to the other dinner party. Please. Don't delay. You are lovely and delightful and cherished, thought of... Oh, so thought of... The beautiful, astounding, attentive and meaningful thoughts of One so wonderful are for you. Infinite and surprising (in the most astonishing sense), there's no way to uncover them all. Imagine that! No crumbs here. Only deep, abiding affection and love. There's so much life cascading in.

It's time to know that it's true now. You're worth that kind of thoughtfulness. Really.

Kindly, tell the crumb-bearer goodbye. You're heading off to the greatest meal of your life and you just can't make the time to stay. Wish them well because genuinely, all is well. 

And hey, enjoy the other party. I, for one, can't wait to hear all about it...

Living My Purpose, On Purpose

Raise your hand if you feel like you have a strong handle on how to address all of the challenges we're facing right now? If you're like me, you're processing a lot of thoughts and feeling a lot of feelings about how we're moving ahead. All the while, taking notice of the way others are processing the decisions that have been made and those that are being made, as well. We're in a place where all of us, I repeat, all of us, are longing for genuine change and hope. Regardless of our varying takes on the "how" it seems to me that we are each fighting for something that matters to us (and probably others). 

I woke up this morning feeling exhausted. It has become my regular experience over the past few months. Many personal realities and decisions have been weighing on me. I've been working with limited margin in my schedule since September and I have made choices that have led me here.

Looking at it all again recently, I took fresh responsibility for where I am at. No one made choices for me. I made them myself. I've found myself owning my story again more strongly these past few weeks because the truth is, it's mine to own. In the midst of the exhaustion, I feel deep peace about my "why" for each part of my life right now because my decisions are leading me somewhere. And, I think it's really good—though certainly not easy every day. 

And perhaps this is where I'm heading as I write... Each of us is alive today and therefore, we have purpose in this moment. Your purpose is not my purpose. Thank God for that. Can you imagine all 7 billion of us running around the planet doing the same exact thing? What a disaster that would be... No, we are uniquely created. We have the privilege to offer ourselves to one another by living into our purpose. As we do, it's likely that others will join us in what we're doing and contribute their unique perspective and gifts to the work because, at some point, our purpose will align with the purpose of others. We're not meant to go it alone, you know? 

What a beautiful picture. Not every problem is mine to solve. Not every need is mine to meet. Not every challenge is mine to face. There are so many of us at the table and all must contribute. But, in order to do it well, we have to own our purpose. We have to see what it is that brings us joy, what causes us pain, who we're drawn to and figure out why... In the midst of this seeing, I think we also need to note what it means to live into our purpose in a way that brings life instead of death.

• Are we loving well?
• Do we listen and choose to empathize with all people?
• What solutions are we bringing to bear?

It's really easy to point out what's wrong. It's really easy to point the finger of blame without taking a good, hard look in the mirror each day. It's really easy to stop loving because we stand strongly opposed to a person, an ideology or way forward. It's really easy to speak death instead of life. 

I'm saying all of this to myself and perhaps to you, too. I keep coming back to it, actually. Am I any better than what I oppose if I do not live a life of love, hope, peace and joy? Am I any better than what I oppose if I only speak out against and don't take action on behalf of what I am for? Am I any better than what I oppose if I am unwilling to put myself in the shoes of those with whom I vehemently disagree when it comes to ideologies and actions, seeking to empathize and understand them as a human and their personal viewpoint? 

There are sure, tried and true measures for understanding how I'm doing in this process. I can look at the fruit I'm bearing through my thoughts, feelings and actions (including my words). My calendar and my finances are also good measures of the fruit I'm bearing and what I find important and valuable in my life. The way people reflect back to me what they see and experience when they engage with me is another good measure.

At the end of the day, I am accountable for myself. If I don't think, feel, say and do the things I expect from others, I am part of the problem. It's hard to look at this, really. If I have uttered one word from a motive that isn't connected back to love today, I am part of the problem. And, I'm not living well into my purpose.

This might sound overly self-aware, but it is the truth. I can only measure how well I'm doing at being who I want to be and living into my purpose by comparing me to me. I don't get to compare myself to other people and think better of myself based on what they do versus what I do. I get to look at what is true of who I am, right here, right now. Every day I have work to do to be better and do better. It's on me, not you. You? You're responsible for you...

My life is meant to bring life. I pray I have the grace, wisdom and steadfastness to stay the course in the midst of trying times and challenging days. I want to be the best me I can be. Today, and every day, that looks like making intentional choices to employ all that I am and all that I have to live my purpose. In so doing, it is impossible that my life will not be a blessing to others. This, to me, is motivating and wonderful all wrapped into one...

I'm Glad I Stayed

I thought about leaving my Orlando life behind last summer. Staying with friends in Colorado during a work trip in July, I imagined being grounded there again for the first time in what felt like a million years. Between and after meetings, I savored time with friends who have known me for nearly two decades. These friends have become my family and have loved me through and through for so many years. Returning to a regular rhythm with them was seamless and restorative. The trip bookends found me with Mom and Dad, taking in landscapes of summer green acreage and Rocky Mountain grandeur. I wondered what it would be like to build a life there—to return and begin anew.

My imagination took me as far as flying back to Florida, quietly packing up my things and sending them on a big truck, westbound. I'd hop in the car and hit the road. I didn't plan to say goodbye. I remember feeling like it wouldn't matter anyway. Work could be accomplished from a distance. Friends, well, I didn't know what to think about most of them. Feeling so disconnected and invisible, I figured I'd sort out any sore feelings on the phone later. Maybe I'd even come back to visit eventually, I reasoned. Maybe.

Nothing was holding me here and I could have gone, I suppose.

When my friend picked me up from the airport, we somehow ended up on the wrong road and took a longer way back into the city. I felt grateful to curl up in the passenger seat of my car as he navigated the course. A safe friend, indeed. The extended time provided by our directional oversight was so welcome. "I don't really want to be here," I told him. There were very few people I shared that with at the time and even since. I didn't really know how to be here and I didn't think I wanted to be here anymore.

A two and a half year journey down an unknown road was wearing on me. Work challenges felt heavy. Relationships, foreign. Deep loss from back-to-back shootings in the City Beautiful followed, weeks later, by the sudden death of a beloved friend rocked me into alertness and dropped me into an abyss-like grief. And I felt acutely alone and really, really lost.

My friend who died was a huge champion of me and a fresh direction I was moving toward in my career. Her enthusiasm and hope on my behalf meant so much to me as I continued to take baby steps forward. The loss of her and her presence in my life left an unmendable gap. She was gone and none of us could do a thing about it. (It's so true that our lives matter—so much more than we might ever comprehend...)

Looking back, I'm glad I stayed, though.

The forward path has looked a lot like this photograph, taken in the early morning on a rooftop not long ago. I think life is like this—there are many paths forward. We have choices and we make decisions. We can make them from places of pain or from hope. Often, I find we make them from a mixture of the two, honestly.  But prayerfully, we allow hope to carry us in spite of our pain. 

Pain has a way of dulling our senses and all at once, making us more aware. If we're willing to sit in it and really feel, I find that we can heal. Instead of running away, perhaps we stay. Instead of staying stuck, perhaps we take a step forward in one of the directions we're considering. Our motive in the choice is key. Why we're doing what we're doing matters. And, in the end, I know this is the reason why I didn't leave Orlando last summer. I would have been running away.

And now 2017 is here. I plan to do the inspired work of keeping my feet planted on the path I'm on right now. I anticipate there will be days when it's difficult. Building something from scratch brings its challenges for sure. I realize I have to keep letting people in—even when they appear disengaged or disinterested. What we've experienced in our stories influences the way we perceive the people in our lives. It's important to note that here, I think. Give people a chance to love you this year, if you would. I'm still learning. Maybe we can grow together in that way.

I told someone recently and I'll say it again here: I'm tired at the start of this New Year, but oh so hopeful. The sheer number of courageous steps I've taken in the past five months has really shown me how far I've come on this journey. I have felt surprised by my boldness and bravery. None of it has come without effort, though. And that's why I'm hopeful. I have seen my own ability to make hard choices to heal and to grow and I'm convinced that I will do more of the same in the days to come. For what it's worth, I hope you will, too.

Let's Love Like Never Before

Our long season of political mayhem comes to a head today and as I reflect on where we've been and where we're going, I offer you a bit of beauty and an invitation. Would you join me in living and loving well today and tomorrow and the day after and so on? Would you join me as I seek to listen to the people around me and understand their hopes and fears and their stories? Would you join me as I set aside my pre-drawn conclusions to deeply embrace someone with whom I don't agree? 

I brunched with friends on Sunday as we celebrated the life of someone we love. Around that table were people from different backgrounds and perspectives. In my little corner of the table, we talked about living with wisdom, in freedom as our authentic selves and with a willingness to really, really love. If we say we love but offer that love conditionally, it really isn't love, after all. 

Don't get me wrong, it's a tall order to love someone we vehemently disagree with, no matter the party or group or nation. It requires courage and maturity to love without condition. To always hope. To always choose to see something good. When we fail to love unconditionally, we wind up doing the very thing we hate. We dehumanize another and thereby, dehumanize ourselves. Evil we must hate. People we must love.

I think today is for more questions, curiosity, genuine care and interest in another than ever before. If we lived this way as individuals each and every day, I think our lives and our world would look very different. Instead of walking in offense or being ready to pounce on a potential offense, feasting on what is offered to us through media and assuming motive and intention when we don't have an up-close view or understanding, we can choose to believe the best. We can choose to ask questions. We can choose to offer genuine care for another. 

Tomorrow will come. I wish to greet it with open arms no matter what the outcome of this day. Because in the end, we're all in this together. Let's bring beauty into our relational interactions, let's be clothed in kindness and grace, let's allow mercy to be our guide and let's love. Let's love like never before. 

The Wall

Months and months ago I painted this wall. My home needed a fresh coat of color and I felt excited to brighten the space with an airy, warm neutral. Not sure which pieces to put up, I left it blank following the advice of a friend. She thought the lack of art on the wall might create margin for my imagination to engage. She was so right.

In the end, staring at this big blank canvas of a wall has been good for me but I've experienced days when I've felt lost as I've considered it, too. Life feels like that at times. There are so many possibilities--a clean slate supported by a strong foundation, but still empty somehow. And, this wall has become a living testimony of my life right now. The emptiness has afforded me with a broader capacity to dream, but I've also wondered how these dreams might translate into a tangible reality.

Yesterday, I felt restless and tired. I figured I might complete another unfinished project around the house, but I just couldn't get going. After running errands throughout the morning, I ended up back in bed on a "cold" Orlando day. I thought about a nap or watching another episode of Felicity (throwback is the best!) but couldn't settle on either. I knew if I didn't accomplish something I'd feel lousy. So, I reached out to a friend and she agreed to come over and hang with me while I tried to get some stuff done. 

Best. Decision. Ever. 

Not only did my friend show up, but I tossed all other project ideas aside and invited her help to put art on this wall. "If only I can put this one piece of chaotic, unfinished reality in order, maybe I'll be able to move forward elsewhere," I reasoned. We spent the next six hours talking and attempting alternate layouts and running to the hardware store and trying a new-to-her dinner spot before completing the process. It was WONDERFUL.

I sighed deeply as she left and I stood in silence admiring the outcome. This morning, I rejoiced again. It was worth the wait, as so many things are, in the end. 

My takeaways from this process (not new, but tremendous reminders) and hopefully some encouragement for you, as well...

• At times, a wall is a wall. In other cases, a wall is more. Know what season you're in.
• Give yourself the time and margin you need to dream and execute. Emptiness can be disconcerting but in time, those pieces will come together to fill the space.
• Invite people into the process with you. It's good to be seen, known and loved right where you're at--even if it's hard to be there right now.

If you need help in your process, please let me know. Together is better. My life is an ongoing testament to this truth! I am grateful for the constant reminder that I need other people, especially when I encounter a wall. 

Hope On

I get it. Whether it's an emotional, physical, work-related, relationship-altering shift, you've transitioned. You've done it. Or maybe mentally you've done it and the completion of the change is looming and incomplete. But in a significant way, you've stepped out into an unknown place. Been there? Are you there now? 

I've been thinking about these moments again recently. These places of challenge and risk. Growth springs forth in these transitions. All at once they can be exhilarating and terrifying. I wonder if that resonates with you? 

This will get personal. I'm there. I'm in the midst of another such leap in my work and personal life. I spent yesterday crying off and on throughout the day. There were moments I celebrated the tears because I was feeling the tension of this very good shift in my life. But there was another when I found Shame knocking on my front door. He wanted to throw a party and stay awhile. 

"Who do you think you are?" he demanded. "Do you really think you're going to be okay? There's no safety net for you... Haven't you thought this through to the logical conclusion?"

Fear followed him in. "He's right... You don't have it together." He quipped. "You're being irresponsible and there's no way this is going to work out."

There were others. My house felt crowded, the atmosphere heavier by the minute. I kept listening to them. It's no surprise, but the tears got worse.

But then, I had a moment of clarity. It was as though a fresh wind blew through my house and aired out all of the icky. (That was especially amazing because it's Florida and it's August and we do not dare to open our windows at the moment...)

All I heard was, "Step by step." This came gently, softly.

I cried again, but this time with hope.

"Step by step," I repeated. Yes, of course! I only need to consider the very next step and the reality is that's what I had been doing. (Before I let them take over my house and throw their party, I mean...)

It was simple. It was beautiful. It was a word filled with LIFE.  

If you're there, too I say this to you and once again, to myself: HOPE ON AND KEEP GOING.

Praise is the Path

Whether you prefer to call it praise, gratitude or thankfulness, one thing is for certain: When enduring uncertain or difficult times, praise is the path! I don't know about you, but there are mornings (recent mornings) when I wake up and feel the weights come down upon me immediately. My life has been shifting in some significant ways recently and concerns and cares flood my mind as soon as my eyes flutter open. (Your eyes flutter open, too, right?)

The past two weeks I've been practicing praise. I begin by remembering there are new mercies for me today. There are people I get to connect with and learn from out there in the world. I am ALIVE and have the privilege of living my life in these minutes and hours, whatever may come. I get out of bed and wander along the hallway to the kitchen. I fill a glass with water and drink it down. And then I make the coffee. First things first, right? (Hehe. It's a start...)

So today, even if it's started in an unlovely way, I encourage you: Take a moment, breathe deeply and speak aloud five or seven things you're grateful for in this moment. If life is extra rough, keep it simple. Be grateful for that glass of water or the cup of coffee or ... You get the idea.