When I was 9, I heard about a white elephant gift exchange for the first time. My friend’s Mom was having one. I no longer believed in Santa, but for about two weeks of my life, I sincerely believed my friend was about to receive a small, white elephant as a pet.
And because I was over there all the time, I was about to receive a small, white elephant as a pet.
I was so very excited.
I still enjoy white elephant gift exchanges, but this one had the cutest expectations.
… the Solstice has passed, and now the days are growing longer…
This is one of my favorite questions to ask people:
What is something you learned incorrectly as a child but only realized well into your adulthood?
This is a fantastic question! It leads to stories that are very dear and often, quite hilarious. Some people talk about words they mispronounced for decades, only revealed, of course, when they blurted them aloud in a group setting. Others talk about illogical beliefs they internalized as kids which emerged unexpectedly in their minds years later (or were also voiced aloud!) These come as a total surprise because people hadn’t even thought about the topic, let alone questioned their young belief, until that very moment.
This American Life has an entire episode of stories like these. My favorite involves a moment when a college student approached other college students at a campus party and asked the question, “So… are unicorns just really rare, or did they go extinct?”
Hysterical. Totally embarrassing. But also so dear. I love it!
With all of this in mind, I will now admit that I have an embarrassment of riches of stories like these from my own life. And I will share one of them today.
My favorite personal story of this kind involves the nine year window when I didn’t believe in reindeer.
Yes, you heard that correctly.
Now I hope this doesn’t come as a total surprise or crush anyone’s dreams, but when I was eight years old, I learned the sad truth that Santa wasn’t real. (Are you okay? I hope so). In the moment of this revelation, I was pretty of devastated. I was also deeply concerned that I wouldn’t get presents anymore.
So in the midst of my sadness, I resigned myself to reality. So much so, in fact, that I just kind of… over-steered. I just assumed… that… reindeer weren’t real either.
I mean, come on… They fly! Flying reindeer? No way.
At least there was some sort of evidence of Santa’s existence. Gifts showed up annually, so there was something tangible to associate with him. Plus, I saw him in all the malls!
But once I knew the sad truth, how could I possibly believe in flying, antlered caribou? Reindeer quickly went the way of the unicorn. (Ahem… not extinct. Non-existent).
That is, until… I was 17 years old. That is, until… I was flipping through the channels and saw a nature documentary on my television set.
A British accented, David Attenbourough wannabe voiced commentary as creatures walked around in the snow, plunging their faces into the frigid stuff, attempting to nibble on frozen grasses. “The reindeer are in the tundra,” the David Attenbourough wannabe said in all his formal tones.
And I started laughing. Laughing! “The reindeer! In the tundra! Yeah…”
But then, my laughing stopped abruptly, and my mouth gaped open. As I sat alone in the living room of my childhood home, in my last year before legal adulthood, a recognition completely washed over me. It dawned on me — at age 17 — that reindeer are REAL.
I had indeed over-steered. The reindeer had been in the tundra this whole time.
This whole time.
What gives you life?
What would happen if you prioritized that through the end of the year? (And possibly into the next)
I know a pastor who often says a particular phrase when he prays in worship:
“Help us to be a part of the very prayers we make.”
It’s a phrase I have taken on as well when I lead prayers. Prayer can mean many different things and take on many different forms. I suspect if we pray, most of us pray in many different formats, and we likely infuse that process with many forms of meaning.
But certainly, praying should call us to action.
We need to be a part of the very prayers we make.
So if you pray, what do you pray for these days? Or if you would use a different word than prayer, what do you hope for? Or long for? What need is grabbing your attention in this world, your community, your family?
Whatever it is, how might we take an action to be present to that very need? Or to address that very need?
How might this be important especially for neighbors who are so often out of view?
– Those in prison,
– Those going hungry,
– Those experiencing homelessness,
– Those in the throes of addiction,
– Those who are immigrants,
– Those who live in fear in the shadows,
– Those who are sick without healthcare,
– Those who are stigmatized because of mental illness,
– Those who have lost jobs,
– Those who are foreclosing on their houses,
– Those who have received a challenging diagnosis,
– Those who are harassed or bullied. . .
Whatever and whomever comes to mind. . .
May we be a part of the very prayers we make.
I was walking toward a building near campus yesterday when a person waiting outside held the door open for me. The person was about to take in a big cart, but before moving it, it seemed easier to let me go through first. So the person held the door open for me as I approached it.
When I saw that this was about to happen, I immediately sped up my walking toward the door. I probably doubled my speed. Then the person said,
“Oh, no need to hurry!” This was spoken as a kind reminder that I wasn’t inconveniencing.
I thought about how frequently we worry about taking up space, or inconveniencing, even when we are given an authentic occasion to receive. Some of us have been socialized in this direction especially.
That’s when I thought of something that the poet Mary Oliver says: “Joy is not made to be a crumb.”
Likewise, I suppose,
The taking up of space — being noticed, being cared for — is not made to be hurried.
The gift of receiving is never made to be small.
Dr. Ellen Langer, scholar and researcher on mindfulness, uses a particular phrase to describe the ways we become disconnected from the present moment. She says that so frequently, we live in a perpetual state of constant partial attention.
Constant partial attention. . . Isn’t that a perfect way to describe that kind of experience? So often, we move through our days simply going through the motions, rarely paying attention to what is right in front of us. Instead, our minds gravitate toward our to-do lists and the situations that make us most anxious. We get stuck mulling over the past or worrying about our imagined future. In the process, we miss the present moment.
And sadly, this means we lose some awareness of our surroundings, our inner life, our neighbors, and the deep stirrings within us.
Poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning has a creative way of capturing this as well. She says,
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries. [1]
Sometimes we experience the daily delights of what’s in front of us; other times, we’re more disconnected than we’d like to be.
The good news is that we can keep reorienting ourselves again and again.
–Renee Roederer
Recently, I had the opportunity to hear some folks encourage a particular person, and I noticed that something kept happening quite naturally. Instead of simply saying,
“We’re with you. . . We believe in you. . . We know you can do this. . .”
they also kept adding the person’s name:
“We’re with you, [Name]. . . We believe in you, [Name]. . . We know you can do this, [Name].”
Throughout all of this, I was reminded of how powerful names can be. In the context of expressing love, gratitude, or encouragement, names themselves can be words of deep affection.
After I had already been pondering this, in a different context, a friend said that she wanted to hear her name more. She felt like people hadn’t said her name as often lately, a name she shares with a relative she lost years ago.
Perhaps somewhere within us, we’re all longing to be addressed by name. This sacred process of speaking and hearing names comes from a place of being known and honored as the ones we are. We are seen and cared for in all our particularities.
When addressing others with love, gratitude, and encouragement, I’m going to start speaking names much more often and much more intentionally.
Do you ever find yourself wondering, “These things I’m doing. . . Do they really matter? Do they make any difference?”
The answer is a resounding yes.
On average, each person on the planet consistently affects 8,000 people every day.
I learned this from a tremendous book. It’s called, Connected: The Surprising Power of Social Networks and How they Shape Our Livesby Nicholas Christakis and James Fowler. In the book, Christakis and Fowler conduct intriguing scientific research on social networks to discover how they connect us and affect us. I find their conclusion to be stunning: Daily, our actions, thoughts, and emotions impact others. That’s where this number comes from: On average, we affect approximately 8,000 people every day.
How did they calculate this number?
Christakis and Fowler have discovered that on average, each person knows twenty people well enough to invite them to a dinner party. If those friends then know twenty people to the same degree, and then those friends know twenty people to the same degree, we are talking about 20 x 20 x 20 = 8,000 people.
We are relationally connected and deeply embedded in these relationships. Their research revealed that we affect and are affected by our friends’ friends’ friends in social and emotional contagions. Even if we don’t directly know these people three degrees away, we are consistently impacting each other every single day of our lives. That’s astonishing.
Christakis and Fowler discuss the ways that our actions, thoughts, and emotions impact others. When we feel joy, calm, stress, or anxiety, we often pass our emotions to one another in contagion. Sometimes, this happens as quickly and simply as seeing someone’s facial expression. The mirror neurons in our brains fire to make a similar facial expression, and then we feel a similar emotion too. This can happen with fear. It can also happen with a smile. These are truly contagious.
So, if we have the ability to impact a social network as large as 8,000 people pretty unconsciously, what is possible if we consider this consciously? How can we positively affect our social network with acts of compassion, advocacy, and solidarity?
How can we positively affect our social network through our own self-care and personal, spiritual practices? These enrich us, but they can also add wellbeing to the whole. We are deeply connected to others. We can truly have an impact upon 8,000 people.
What happens when we show up in person to solidarity events and see the humanity of one another? What emotional contagion of hope is unleashed when we see large-scale solidarity events on Facebook live?
All of these things launch social contagions of connectedness and continued action.
If you doubt your ability to affect things, please know that these matter. Everything you’re doing definitely matters.
A friend and colleague introduced me to a poem that I love.
I’m also curious how you would answer the last line. I really want to know. I invite you to post a comment or send me a message. What do you dream and imagine?
This poem is by Marlene Marburg of Victoria, Australia:
“Dreaming a Grace”
I imagine a place
a-fire
people gathering, sharing
food and conversation and
their deep desires
for the way things can be
in this world at this time
in places
where Church is crumbling
and a new consciousness
of God in all things
(in joy and pain)
is emerging
without competition,
without striving to be or do anything.
I imagine listening and awakening, and holding
as precious each other
and each other’s gifts and each other’s dreams,
inviting each other to speak,
to show and tell stories,
to challenge and be challenged
by the arts,
to say what can only be spoken
in airy spaces,
to separate stifling rules and blinkered vision
from expansive love and kindness.
I imagine insight and discernment
and holy decisions and implementation.
I imagine shared prayer
and the uplifting grace of love
that won’t tolerate stinginess,
maintaining the way things have been.
I imagine leadership that enables
recedes from its own ego,
from the disabling power of self-doubt.
I imagine a ritual of reclaiming, reshaping
a communion of souls,
lifted and raised to the Mystery of God
the mystery of each other.
I imagine a quiet interior ‘yes,’
a buoyant ‘yes,’ risking the storms
which try to drown God’s feet in us.
I imagine daring and courage
until they are no longer such.
I imagine the ‘yes’ of Jesus
tipping tables and healing hearts,
the ‘yes’ disposition to all-things-God
that took him to Gethsemane.
I imagine post-resurrection people,
Pentecost people
living the unquenchable flame.
I wonder what you imagine.
-Marlene Marburg, Victoria, Australia
Image: Petoskey, Michigan at sunset by Renee Roederer
Please visit Marlene Marburg’s website to learn more about her poetry and work as a spiritual director. She recently wrote a book called Dreams and Desires, in which she asked the question, ‘What do you imagine?’ of 120 people and edited their replies in prose and poetry. Please check that out here.
Smuggling Grace 