Smuggling Grace

When one of my friends was 18 years old, he traveled to Chicago for a service trip. He and other young people stayed with host families who were receiving services from the organization they had come to serve alongside.

The family he stayed with struggled deeply with poverty, and they were regularly neglected by their housing complex. Their home often had mice and roaches. In the midst of these challenges, they were deeply hospitable to the young people who stayed with them, and over a few days, meaningful friendships began to form.

One morning, my friend noticed a particular clock in the kitchen. Underneath it, the family had written the words, “Nebraska Time.” When he asked about it, they explained that it marked the time in Nebraska. Of course, Chicago and Nebraska are both in the Central Time Zone, so this analog clock was no different from any other clock they might see that day in the city.

But it carried so much meaning.

This family had contacts in Nebraska. People they loved. A place where they believed they could get a new start. It was their dream to move there and begin again.

Every day, they saw that label, and with it in front of them, they dreamed. Did they ever get there? I don’t know. My friend doesn’t know either. But the Nebraska Time clock had a powerful effect on their lives in the present moment. It didn’t only give them hope or a vision for the future. That imagined future seemed to reach back and shape their present, as well. It helped them hold onto hope in their current circumstances and continue building partnerships and friendships that aligned with their goals.

I wonder, do you have anything like that?

An idea or vision you hold for your future — or something that represents your deepest hopes or values so clearly that it is shaping how you live right now?

Might you?

—Renee Roederer

–Photos by Renee Roederer

Very neato.

Yesterday, I wrote about my experience rushing back to my house — so mindless — ironically, in order to lead a virtual program called “Mindfulness Moments.”

But then, once I sat down and actually started, my co-leader, a gifted therapist, started leading us in a visualization exercise. She spoke beautiful words about connection, and we began to visualize people, places, and pets that matter to us.

During this time, my mind especially landed on places, and I sat there quietly, visualizing images of places I’ve been throughout the U.S. and the world. These are places of great beauty and places where I met people I love.

This was such a simple experience. Sit down. Remember. Imagine. Observe. Have gratitude.

And we have access to our imagination all the time. We can tap into this any time we want.

—Renee Roederer

After turning out of a parking lot, I ended up behind a car with a bumper sticker that said,

“Watch more sunsets.”

I laughed, given the context. I was rushing home after running errands and was doing what I could to make it home on time. I did, but just barely, and at stoplights, I was eating a piece of pizza in my car. Here’s the irony: I was trying to get home quickly to start a monthly Zoom offering I co-lead called “Mindfulness Moments.”

A therapist and I provide space for people to slow down and practice mindfulness and reflection together. I was doing everything but that. The bumper sticker woke me up to that.

Yes, definitely slow down. Yes, definitely be more mindful. Yes, definitely watch more sunsets.

—Renee Roederer

I thought Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl Halftime Show was joyful and brilliant.

If you haven’t seen it yet, his performance closed with a litany of blessings for America, as people carried flags from every nation in North and South America. “God bless America,” he started, and then he named every one of these countries, closing as he held a football that said, “We are America.”

In the background, a banner read, “The only thing more powerful than hate is love.”

Bad Bunny expanded the “we.” People from all of these countries have lived in the United States and contributed to it. But what I loved most is that he cast a vision to expand how we define the word America. This was joyfully subversive.

And I wonder, in a variety of contexts, how do we need to expand the “we”?

You can watch here or below.

I had cataract surgery last week.

When I share this with people, they’re usually pretty surprised. I realize I’m not the typical age for this. I’m no spring chicken, but I’m still at least twenty years shy of when most people have a surgery like this.

My cataract developed as a result of a different surgery. When I was a young adult, I had a detached retina. That was actually quite serious, and I needed surgery to repair it. Sometimes that type of surgery leads to the formation of a cataract. That’s what happened to me. Mine was first spotted when I was 30 and grew slowly over the years.

Well, now it’s gone. Bye!

A surgeon removed the lens I was born with and replaced it with an artificial one. I am now a card-carrying member of that club. Literally. They gave me a card. A whole bionic woman, though you can’t tell. I can’t even tell.

Cataract surgery has become remarkably routine, and it’s been that way for decades. (Although cataract surgery was invented in 800 B.C.E., wow.) For most of human history, though, it wasn’t widely practiced, and certainly not with artificial lenses. It’s easy to forget what a medical miracle this really is. Most humans simply lived with terrible eyesight.

And that leads me to a very different thought, though I think you’ll see the throughline.

One of the funniest lines in the Bible comes from the Song of Songs, where the writer praises his beloved by saying, “Your teeth are like a flock of goats, and not a one is missing!” This phrase shows up several times in that book. Why a flock of goats? And also, why is it such a big deal to have all your teeth?

Oh! Because it actually was a big deal to have all your teeth. Most ancient people didn’t. I had never really thought about that before. (Though still, why a flock of goats?)

Anyway, I’m grateful for our eyes and our teeth, including the artificial ones. (P.S. I still have all my teeth. What a flock of goats!)

—Renee Roederer

I learned something fascinating and deeply sad this week: rejection can literally lower our body temperature, making us feel colder.

I learned this while listening to a Radiolab episode titled Kleptotherms. In the episode, the hosts speak with a man named John, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia in his twenties. John shared that he came to expect rejection from others, and over time he began wearing many layers of clothing everywhere he went, regardless of the weather. Multiple sweatshirts and jackets. Multiple pairs of pants. He explained that this sometimes gave him a sense of having a shield, helping him feel more protected from the world around him, and especially from the people in it.

It turns out this practice of wearing multiple layers of bulky clothing, even in the summer, is observed across cultures among some people who experience schizophrenia. It even has a name: redundant clothing.

Dr. Tathagata Mahintami discovered through his research that while this behavior may provide psychological comfort for some, people who wear redundant clothing actually have lower body temperature. This is a physical phenomenon as much as a psychological one.

So could rejection, or the perception of rejection, really lower body temperature?

Dr. Hans Rocha IJzerman found something similar. In one study, participants played a game called Cyberball. They began by tossing a virtual ball with two other “players” controlled by the computer. After a short time, however, the other players excluded the participant entirely, passing the ball only to one another. Afterward, participants were asked to estimate the temperature of the room. Those who had been excluded reported that the room felt colder than a control group.

But it wasn’t just perception. Dr. IJzerman also measured participants’ finger temperature using a digital thermometer, and their peripheral skin temperature actually dropped following exclusion.

As I listened to this episode, I had a personal aha moment too. There was a difficult period in my life when I frequently experienced cold chills without a fever. At the time, I wondered whether it might be a trauma response. It may very well have been the kind of phenomenon researchers are describing.

So let me make a turn here:

If rejection can lower body temperature, it doesn’t seem like a stretch to say that belonging, whether newly formed or consistently sustained, can help regulate it.

We shouldn’t underestimate what inclusion can bring to a person or a community. We have the capacity to make this better.

—Renee Roederer

–Photos by Renee Roederer

Cute Pika Steals Food from Neighbors. Also David Attenborough is such a treasure.