Author: gracesmuggler

Well that’s a title I never expected to write.

But hey, check it out: I tweeted this and then I received this!

Thanks to the dear one who gave me this fun gift.

–Renee Roederer

During his time as a Presbyterian pastor, my chosen Dad, David, used to do this silly little thing unconsciously until we pointed it out to him. Every time the church sang the hymn “Amazing Grace,” and we hit the highest note —

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like *meeeeeee*”

he would lift himself up higher on his toes as he reached for the note. It was a very dear visual. He would do this on every single verse, mostly unaware that he was doing it.

Yesterday, I led a church service with this hymn, and in a very subtle way (nowhere as obvious as he used to do) I would flex that part of my foot and lift myself ever so slightly higher just to feel connected to him.

–Renee Roederer

We’re going to have a really lovely, warm day today. And… it’s going to snow tomorrow.

Such is March in Michigan.

We’re in that time of year when the temperatures and conditions vacillate, so there’s an opportunity to roll with it and maximize what you can maximize on all sides of those conditions. Need to get outside with some sunshine and shed a coat? Great, make sure you don’t miss what’s possible on this day. Need a cozy day indoors to finish chores you want to do? Great, make sure you don’t miss what’s possible tomorrow.

And I suppose that’s a good metaphor for life too. Sometimes, we have to look at the conditions and maximize what we and others need based on what’s possible in the moment. No need to concretize those conditions or their limitations. They offer certain possibilities, and then, in many situations, they’re going to shift. We can roll with it and maximize what we can.

–Renee Roederer

A word from Joey Wolffer (@joeywolffer):

Text:
I am washing my face before bed while a country is on fire.

It feels dumb to wash my face and it feels dumb not to.

It has never been this way and it has always been this way.

Someone has always clinked a glass in one hemisphere as someone loses a home in another, while someone falls in love in the same apartment building where someone grieves. The fact that suffering, mundanity and beauty coincide is unbearable and remarkable.

I’ve written about this before, but I often think about this phase and organizing vision I learned from adrienne maree brown: Don’t live/serve/act/organize in a way that is a “mile wide and an inch deep.” Let your work and vision be “an inch wide and a mile deep.”

When we think about our sense of calling and purpose, we don’t have to do or be all things. (Also, we can’t). But if we go deep with one vision or a few interconnected visions, we can build communities with great depth.

And then if we take that further, we might also ponder this:
If a community is formed and organized for one thing, they’ll also be organized for more things.

These days, I’m going deep with the epilepsy community in Michigan. And if they can become more interconnected and organized around their shared identity and its needs, won’t they also be organized for other things too? Ways of adding care when it comes to food, housing, and safety? Ways of adding encouragement around their relationships? Ways of making larger meaning in this era of time? Ways of addressing systemic inequalities? Ways of saying no to injustice? Ways of caring intentionally for one another’s multifaceted needs?

If a community is formed and organized for one thing, they’ll also be organized for more things.

–Renee Roederer

There was a precise moment when I knew I had completely arrived in adulthood. It was the moment I bought a mattress. (This also makes me laugh). As I was moving through various mattresses in the mattress store, lying on them one by one to try them out, I thought, “Move over, emerging adulthood. This is the moment when I am an all-the-way adult

I thought of this again this week. Have you ever had a precise moment when you realize something has changed?

Early this week, I received an invitation in my inbox. I was invited to attend the neurosurgeon conference at Henry Ford Health System and present to them about this year’s educational initiatives at the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan. I did that yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed our time together.

And I thought, “This is the precise moment when I know I’ve made a career change.”

The previous pieces are still there, but yes, this is different. I also love it.

–Renee Roederer

Sometimes in group settings, I’ll invite people to introduce themselves by sharing their name and a community that’s important in their lives. I often mention that every community gathering represents a community of communities. There are always more influences of people in the room (or the Zoom) than are visible.

With whom am I in communion? — In this moment? In this activity? In this setting?
Whose influence is present? — Before me? Within me? Among us? Around us?

These are my questions for the season of Lent, which starts today. I want to be more aware of this. I also want to honor this intentionally. When we are mindful of the presence of those before us and among us, we live more deeply in relationship. When we are aware of people beyond us, we feel more connected, inspired, and loved. And I use the word ‘communion’ because I think there is something both sacred and every-day-on-the-ground about this. Among other things, I think that’s what communion is about — a meeting of what is spiritual and most true with what is embodied and right here.

With whom are we in communion?

–Renee Roederer

One of my best mentors wrote a song that has this line:

“… give your living to life.”

I don’t yet know how that will unfold, but I’m going to choose that as a theme to reflect upon this month.

–Renee Roederer

One unfortunate thing about the human brain is that it is easier for it to get stuck in negative thought patterns rather than positive ones. This isn’t only anecdotal, by the way; lots of research exists around this. We can hack the brain’s plasticity to think more positively, but when our thoughts are looping toward anxiety or sadness, this takes work. (I also want to say that anxiety and sadness are valid feelings, and we don’t need a toxic positivity that tries to suppress them.)

But sometimes, we’re looping. And sometimes, we’re projecting fear into all kinds of future storylines. It would be wild to be able to know how much time we’ve spent over the course of our lives imagining fearful, future outcomes that never materialize. And what percentage of our time are we living in this state?

It’s natural, and it’s human.

The good news is that we can impact it, and steer it in helpful, calming, meaningful directions.

Here’s a question for all of us today: What story do you know in your own lives of everything working out? Perhaps even unexpectedly?

Maybe we could bring that not only to our minds, but to our bodies. If we ponder it long enough, it can change the hormones that are running through our bodies. What would it be like to move through this situation or that situation, and it works out? Or at the very least, what if it’s not filled with all the worse case scenarios? It’s not going to be all of them.

My big disclaimer in all of this, of course, is that painful feelings need to be felt too — especially in grief or trauma. Existential fears are valid also.

But even with them, maybe we can live more in the present moment, accompanying them with care, rather than letting our minds perpetually wander into an everything-goes-wrong future.

What storyline do you need to bring to mind and body?

–Renee Roederer

“Remember when we could barely see anyone?”

That’s what I said while I had dinner with loved ones last night. We are still in a time of taking some precautions when it comes to Covid — and we should — but much more is possible.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it’s like to have a home away from home. And when we think about it, we probably have some homes away from home — places where we feel at ease, familiar, at rest, and cared for in other people’s houses. This week, I’m in one of those places, and it feels great to be here.

I also want my house to provide this kind of experience for others. I want my place to be a home away from home, where people feel at ease, familiar, at rest, and cared for.

Last week, after more than a month of work, contractors finished a renovation to part of my house. I’m so eager to use that space, and I hope that people feel the way I did it that dinner. ❤️