Author: gracesmuggler

What if…

… you’re loved exactly as you are and are filled with worth, value, and a particular-to-you expression of what is amazing?

–Renee Roederer

Father Greg Boyle is a person I really appreciate. He’s the founder and spiritual leader of Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles. Homeboy Industries provides jobs, training, tattoo removal, therapy, and a variety of classes for people who are leaving gangs and people who have been recently incarcerated. In the midst of these opportunities, Homeboy Industries has created a large, extended family of kinship — many meaningful relationships over time.

Father Greg was once a guest on Krista Tippett’s On Being. During that interview, he uses a beautiful phrase about the mutuality of relationship. He says that in kinship, we serve as enlightened witnesses, helping each other ‘return to ourselves.’

Toward the beginning of the podcast, he uses some language from Cesar Chavez. Once, a reporter said to Chavez, “These farm workers sure do love you. . .” And to that, he replied, “The feeling’s mutual!”

That line came up again when he discussed this beautiful experience of returning to ourselves. To bring it home, he told a story about one of the homies named Louie and a mutual blessing they shared with some humor. I want to share Greg Boyle’s words below:

“You want to be as spacious as you can be, that you can have room for stuff. And love is all there is, and love is all you are. . .

“Alice Miller, who’s the late, great child psychologist, talked about how we’re all called to be enlightened witnesses — people who, through your kindness, tenderness, and focused, attentive love, return people to themselves. And in the process, you’re returned to yourself.

“Like I have a homie named Louie who just turned 18. And he’s kind of a difficult kid. You know, he’s exasperating, and he’s whiny. And he works for me — although work may be too strong a verb. But homies lately have asked me for blessings, which is odd — it’s like in the last three years — and they always ask me on the street or in my office. And they never say, ‘Father, may I have your blessing?’ They say, ‘Eh, G, give me a bless, yeah?’ And they always say it the same way.

“So this kid Louie, I’m talking to him, and he’s complaining about something. And finally, at the end of it, he says, ‘Eh, G, give me a bless, yeah?’ I said, sure. So he comes around to my side of the desk, and he knows the drill. And he bows his head. I put his hands on my shoulder. Well, his birthday had been two days before, so it gave me an opportunity to say something to him. And I said,

‘You know, Louie, I’m proud to know you.
And my life is richer ’cause you came into it.
And when you were born, the world became a better place,
And I’m proud to call you my son.
Even though — ‘

And I don’t know why I decided to add this part —

‘– at times, you can really be a huge pain in the ass.’

“And he looks up, and he smiles, and he says, ‘The feeling’s mutual!’

And suddenly — kinship so quickly. You’re not sort of this delivery system. But maybe I returned him to himself, but there is no doubt . . . that he’s returned me to myself.”

Friends, I hope you’ve had this kind of experience lately, even if socially distanced.

Or I hope you can recall this kind of experience — of returning and being returned — in a way that fills you right this instant in the present moment.

Suddenly, kinship so quickly.

–Renee Roederer

Our ties, connections, and relationships matter. When we are connected both personally and broadly, we can create a larger ethic of care. This is an intrinsic good.

Connections build empathy and solidarity, and these commitments create supportive and protective communities. Everyone needs this, especially when we face difficult challenges.

Hugh Hollowell, founder and director of Love Wins Ministries in North Carolina, says that the opposite is homelessness isn’t just being housed. The real opposite of homelessness is community. When we extend our community relationships to include others, it is less likely that someone will experience homelessness. People often lose access to shelter because they’ve lost relationships.

We all need community support and care –

when we’ve lost a job,

when we’ve lost a loved one,

when we’ve begun a transition,

when we’ve left a religious community,

when we have mental health needs,

when we have financial needs,

when we have a deportation order,

when we’ve received a diagnosis,

when we don’t know where our next meal is coming from.

Does someone come to mind when you read this list? Can you reach out to them so that their access to community ties are strong?

Do you find yourself on that list? Do you know that you’re worth support and belonging? You are. Reach out to someone and let them know how you’re really doing.

Community is an intrinsic good, and we all need it.

– Renee Roederer

Over the last few days, I’ve fallen in love with my town all over again.

The truth is, I really needed a reset. It’s important to be informed, but I had been too immersed in the news cycle. Informed and immersed are two different experiences entirely. So thanks to five warm days in our local weather patterns, I made space in my daily schedule to walk in beautiful settings, taking in the autumn colors and sunshine around the Huron River in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

It’s been gorgeous. On one occasion, I found myself dreaming about what I hope my post-pandemic life will look like. This didn’t seem like a painful longing, though that would make sense given the circumstances. Instead, this felt like joyful energy that was worth my waiting and dreaming.

I’m glad I was able to clear my mind and heart for this. The truth is, nature often helps us reset ourselves in these ways.

But it wasn’t the nature alone. I visited a number of places surrounding the river, so each time, I had to get in my car and drive. As I drove through different parts of Ann Arbor, my mind had so many memories.

the place where I…
the place where we…
the place where all of us…

I recalled many moments and loved ones.

Interestingly, I didn’t feel sad or deprived, though my rhythms are more narrow during a time of social distancing. I felt nostalgic in a meaningful way, looking forward to connections and communities that will be revisited again, yet in new, uncharted ways.

I love this town.

I love that there’s still more to experience, not only after the waiting is over, but even now during this weird and wonky time we’re living.

–Renee Roederer

.

Last year, I participated in a Poem Exchange. It was lovely.

A college student in my community sent me an email inviting me to this Poem Exchange. It’s structured in such a way that friends of friends end up emailing you poetry. I received poems in my inbox from people I’ve heard about and people who were complete strangers to me.

In the midst of that Poem Exchange, someone sent me this gem from Mary Oliver:

“Moments” by Mary Oliver

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled —
like telling someone you love them
or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?
You’re not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life,
even possibly, your own.

-Mary Oliver

This is a stunning, simple, headlong call to action, and I find myself thinking of two important life lessons.

Lesson One:
This is the kind of poem that speaks straight into particular situations in our lives. Do it. Say what you need to say. Act in ways you need to act. You can do this.

Lesson Two (my even larger take-away from this poem):

As soon as I received this, I thought, “Goodness… I wonder… How many specific situations has this poem has spoken straight into? Straight toward? Experiences and stories that even Mary Oliver herself could not have anticipated?”

So I found myself pondering this also…

Speak the larger message you need to speak. Put it out into the world. Write the post. Create the art. Embody the dream. Lean into the collective. Release it into the community. Sow the seeds. Express the possibility.

Because… you don’t know who will hear you and how they will hear you…

I know this experience as a preacher. Sometimes, you express that sermon, and it seems you have so little to say… Or you stayed up late writing, and it still feels disjointed and lifeless. But someone still hears something. Sometimes, they hear something life-giving that you didn’t even intend. And you wake up to the realization that you are participating in what feels like a living, breathing moment. Somehow, it flowed through you… you — a relatively unaware messenger.

So this message, this post, this art, this embodiment, this leaning, this releasing, this sowing, this expressing…

It’s calling you.

Say what you need to say.

It may enliven a life,
even possibly, your own.

–Renee Roederer

When people ask me what my favorite season or weather is, I always answer, “Warm Fall.” Last weekend, we had days in the 70s alongside all the beautiful colors of October.

I was able to spend time outside, savor the warmth, and take some photos. I thought I’d share those — trees, water, bridges, and a sunset.

I hope you find some beauty this week as well.

–Renee Roederer

When people ask me what my favorite season or weather is, I always answer, “Warm Fall.” This weekend, we had days in the 70s alongside all the beautiful colors of October.

I was able to spend time outside, savor the warmth, and take some photos. I thought I’d share those today and tomorrow — trees, water, bridges, and sunshine.

I hope you find some beauty this week as well.

–Renee Roederer

Here’s the paradoxical thing about shame —

As a feeling, it is real.

As a reality, it is untrue.

There has never been a life chapter, a day, or even a moment when we were not worth love and belonging.

– Renee Roederer

Last year, my good friend Suzanne died after living with cancer for nearly a decade.

Many words could be used to describe Suzanne… welcoming, boisterous, joy-filled, passionate, compassionate, feisty, devoted, heartfelt, hilarious, loyal, and free-spirited. And in many ways, the words keep on coming. . . After Suzanne died, people began to speak and write about her. In a celebration of her life, Suzanne’s large, loving community gathered to honor her, not at a traditional funeral or memorial service, but at a party. Her eulogy was collective; some were invited ahead of time to speak, and others were given the occasion to join them. Before, during, and after that party, people have shared stories of Suzanne’s love and influence in their lives. Her impact was both personal and expansive. She touched each person individually and a lot of people collectively.

Before she died, Suzanne traveled to Chicago in the hopes of participating in a medical trial. It was all about to move forward until some of the measurements of the cells in her blood fell outside of the parameters of the study. She stayed in and out of the hospital in Chicago for more than a month, waiting and hoping to get those numbers in the right range. That was a challenging waiting period, especially knowing that beyond this, her treatment options were becoming limited.

While she waited in Chicago, a large number of people cared for her. Some drove her there and back; many visited and stayed with her in the hospital. Some opened their homes to her. It was touching to see this happen. I always felt that Suzanne was an example of someone who loved deeply and a model of a person who allowed herself to receive love deeply. People don’t always know how to do this. It can be a rare gift.

In one my most memorable moments with Suzanne, I called her during her time in Chicago. The occasion for this call was painful. Suzanne had just learned with finality that she was not going to be able to participate in the study. That was devastating news.

Over the phone, Suzanne expressed her sadness. But then, she began to talk about the many people who were caring for her through visits, meals, phone calls, emails, texts, and above all, presence. People truly gathered around Suzanne and for Suzanne. She invited this collective giving and receiving of care.

In recognition of that, here is what was most memorable to me in that phone call:

With love for all these people, with tears of gratitude, Suzanne said, “It makes you feel like you did something right.”

In response, it was so easy for me to affirm that statement because it was abundantly true. She had done this right. Suzanne cultivated so many relationships, each particularly valued, and all, collectively cherished. She invited all of this with her living.

Suzanne is deeply missed, and she will be missed as long as these beloved people in her life keep on living. Yet in the midst of this, after the painful loss of Suzanne, she continues to do something right, and we join her in it. These relationships keep on living. Her memory is honored. Her love is remembered and re-experienced, not only in memory, but in all the ways her many people now also care for each other. We get to turn that care toward each other as well.

And with our own living, both in the ways we remember her, and in the ways we cultivate and deepen additional relationships in our lives, we can affirm,

You did something right, Suze!
And we’re going to keep on joining you.

–Renee Roederer

Yesterday, I filled up my car with gas for the first time since early March.

I am, of course, disheartened and sad about so many impacts of this pandemic. I wish it weren’t happening. I’m angry that it’s being mishandled. I look forward to it shifting. But in the midst of it, there is one piece I have appreciated for this window of time in my life. I’ve had more simplicity.

Don’t hear me wrong: Life is plenty complex, and my schedule is often full. But my daily rhythms mostly involve my house, my neighborhood, and places I walk.

It won’t be this sweeping forever. But I’ve embraced this part. For this period of time, I like this aspect of simplicity. In the midst of what I wouldn’t choose, I do choose this.

–Renee Roederer