Smuggling Grace

I stood before a congregation yesterday and told a personal story from my life. In fact, it’s one that I shared here recently: the story of my skiing accident when I was 25 and how a community came alongside me, rallied, and took care of me on a level that taught me how a community can love a person and care deeply for their body.

In the midst of telling this story, I also talked about the concept of interdependence. Independence is truly a myth. Nearly every single thing we do has other people embedded in the experience, and we are upheld by them.

I shared that when I would come home to eat a bowl of soup later in the day, I could invite myself to be aware that farmers grew the vegetables in my bowl. People picked them. Someone took the container of vegetable broth currently at my house to the store on a truck. Even a simple meal is embedded with contributions from people, and we are upheld within them.

Immediately after that service, I got in my car and jumped on Zoom for a second service. Farm Church, my beloved community in Durham, was having a rainy day, so they were on Zoom, and I wanted to participate in their time together. I listened in the car and occasionally unmuted myself to say hello. Then I took them on errands.

I ended up listening as the community shared stories about identity, belonging, and the choices we make for our lives in the midst of other lives, all while I was doing the most mundane things — walking through grocery store aisles and eventually eating a slice of pizza there..

I found myself thinking that in this day and age, with the easy accessibility of technology, we actually could become more aware than ever that people surround us with their presence, their care, their contributions, and their wisdom nearly all the time, if we will be open to it.

Of course, we also have moments of solitude, as we should. In those moments connect deeply with ourselves, including the parts of who we are, what we care about, what our skills are, and what our needs are. But even then, we are never separated from those relationships.

I’m going to invite myself — and invite all of us — to pay attention more and more to who shows up around our lives, people known and unknown.

–Renee Roederer

–Photos by Renee Roederer

Zoom in on DNA:

From the perspective of your own age, what do you connect with in this video?

I remember learning about photosynthesis in science classes during my elementary school years. Perhaps you do, too. I even remember walking outside and picking up leaves so we could laminate them and learn about their processes.

If we tap back into those lessons we had when we were younger, we’ll likely remember that in the spring and summer, trees gather energy and grow through photosynthesis, and that makes their leaves green. When we get to the autumn months and see those glorious changes take place, the leaves are not exactly turning red, orange, yellow, or brown. In a lot of ways, they are being revealed to be these colors because trees stop their photosynthesis process — the very process that makes those leaves green — and we are left with the vibrant colors we see each year.

I was driving through my town and admiring these changes as they are beginning where I live. And I had a strange thought that probably connects less to trees themselves and more to us.

Here’s what I wondered: When those trees sense, in their own way, that the hours of sunlight are becoming fewer, and they stop that photosynthesis process, revealing those colors, do they have any sense of sudden anxiety or panic that they’ve stopped producing?

Is that jolting for them?

Do they suddenly wonder who they are now that they are not producing? Or do they rest into this process quite easily, allowing their colors to emerge and be revealed, almost as if they are showing us their truest selves?

Obviously, I am anthropomorphizing to the max here, but I know that we often feel these kinds of feelings when we get into those rhythms of working hard and then stop our rhythms of making, working, and creating.

Sometimes, we have a jolt of anxiety. We wonder who we are, as if we are ultimately that output, that work.

What if instead we have something intrinsic about us? Something beautiful? Something that shines whether we produce or not? Whether we work hard or not? Whether we keep going or take a break? Or whether enter a season where we do considerably less?

What if we can be revealed?

—Renee Roederer

Here’s a little tip: We can do helpful things for our body’s stress release simply by taking in some big breaths over four counts and exhaling over five counts. I’ve been using this technique after hearing the podcast episode called “Stress: The Science of Chilling Out,” on Science Vs.

I recommend it!

I’ve been on tour. Actually, we’ve been on tour, and I’ve been joking that we need band shirts.

Some of my fellow team members and friends at the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan have been traveling throughout Northern Michigan. As a team member and as an explorer, this trip was invigorating. We accomplished quite a bit.

We showed the incredible film Under the Lights twice, both in Marquette and Traverse City. This film tells the story of Sam, a teenager living with epilepsy who wants so desperately to go to prom with the rest of his peers, even though the lights are likely to make him have a seizure. There’s also a powerful dementia story that goes along with Sam’s narrative as he and his close friend learn more of who they are and how to care for one another.

We also offered a Seizure Recognition and First Aid training in Marquette. And then I ventured off into the Keweenaw Peninsula, which is the pinky of the Upper Peninsula on the Michigan hand map. I traveled up to Houghton, Hancock, and beyond, and then traveled back to Traverse City where we held our final event.

All in all, we visited two universities, one Student Disability Services office, one community mental health organization, one law enforcement academy, one community resource center and food pantry, one faith community, one health department, and six health clinics and hospitals. We were also on the news twice.

That was quite an adventure.

On top of it all, it was absolutely gorgeous. I fell in love with the northernmost parts of Michigan, some of which were uncharted to me. And the Great Lakes will never cease to utterly amaze me.

I should also say it was a ton of driving, especially over the weekend. I ventured back to my home in Southeast Michigan on Sunday night. And after all of it, all of the adventure that I cherished, I felt such a deep sense of relief and relaxation to be home.It’s amazing what a house and a home can do when you’ve been away for a while. I felt instantly rejuvenated just being back in my own space.

I was glad I went away. I was also glad I came home.

How have you been appreciating home lately?

I know not all aspects are easy. There are grumbles with family members. There are shelves that have gone undusted. There’s food to prepare and routines that become utterly mundane. But have you let yourself be thankful for those lately?

It’s amazing how our bodies need a sense of rhythm. I think that’s a sense of home, too — not just place or people, but practices, routines, daily actions. I know I feel appreciative.

Maybe find a way to pat your house, or your pet, or yourself after dusting, on the head and say, “Good job. Thanks for taking care of me.” Home sweet home.

—Renee Roederer

I recently learned about a list of ten rules that lived at the center of a community of art students at the Immaculate Heart College Art Department. They were created by Sister Corita Kent. There are a lot of good insights here:

Image Reads:

RULE ONE: Find a place you trust, and then try trusting it for awhile. 

RULE TWO: General duties of a student — pull everything out of your teacher; pull everything out of your fellow students.

RULE THREE: General duties of a teacher — pull everything out of your students. 

RULE FOUR: Consider everything an experiment. 

RULE FIVE: Be self-disciplined — this means finding someone wise or smart and choosing to follow them. To be disciplined is to follow in a good way. To be self-disciplined is to follow in a better way. 

RULE SIX: Nothing is a mistake. There’s no win and no fail, there’s only make. 

RULE SEVEN: The only rule is work. If you work it will lead to something. It’s the people who do all of the work all of the time who eventually catch on to things. 

RULE EIGHT: Don’t try to create and analyze at the same time. They’re different processes.

RULE NINE: Be happy whenever you can manage it. Enjoy yourself. It’s lighter than you think. 

RULE TEN: “We’re breaking all the rules. Even our own rules. And how do we do that? By leaving plenty of room for X quantities.” (John Cage) 

HINTS: Always be around. Come or go to everything. Always go to classes. Read anything you can get your hands on. Look at movies carefully, often. Save everything — it might come in handy later.

–Sister Corita Kent

I especially like that line that reminds us that being happy is “lighter than you think.”

—Renee Roederer

Greetings from the Keweenaw Peninsula in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

–Photos by Renee Roederer

Have you ever heard a cornu?

Me either. But this brass instrument was found remarkably well-preserved in the ruins of Pompeii. And since that time, more have been made. Like this one below.