Author: gracesmuggler

I am afraid of a harmless thing.
It looks like it could creep,
or bounce,
or pounce,
or charge awkwardly with its considerable appendages.

But it does none of these.
It stays in place all day long,
content to rest in a single crevice,
or reside in clumps of countless others.

It wishes me no harm;
likewise, I wish it no hurt.
Unlike curious schoolchildren at recess,
I will not examine it,
or smash it,
or dash it,
or remove any of its legs.

But –
I will stand irrationally in fear.
I will freeze in the presence of a childhood phobia.
No matter the logic:
“It can’t bite you,”
“It can’t poison you,”
“It can’t jump on you,”
I will cringe with revulsion and anxiety.
I am afraid of a harmless thing.

It makes me wonder. . .

When
the word can’t enters our thinking, or
the word won’t enters our hoping, or
the word don’t enters our dreaming,
perhaps we fear something harmless too?

–Renee Roederer

Photo Credit: Mehran Moghtadai/Arad/Wikipedia

Have you ever felt loved in limitation?

I’m not talking about failure, though we certainly need love and grace when it comes to that.

I mean, limitation. I mean, receiving love precisely in the place that feels challenging. Accepted fully as you are. Cared for in the unique particularity of your being, including what may be difficult.

That’s when vulnerability and connection become very sacred. That’s when they become very transformative.

–Renee Roederer

Today’s post might involve an overly-specific reference unknown to you. But an invitation to learn the Buffyverse! You won’t regret it.

Yesterday, I wrote this short piece about how I regularly have the occasion to marvel at my former students. I’ve known some of them as long as 11 whole years, and they have become experts in so many areas of study and life. I wrote,

In a variety of contexts, over the last 11 years, I have been privileged to build community with and among college students. And among all the gifts of that, this is one of my very favorite aspects:

I have watched people grow from being teenagers to becoming legit experts concerning so many things.

In a combination of academic study, vocational work, and life experience, these folks I know are now experts in so many different areas. I learn a lot from them. Regularly, I bring my own curiosity questions to them. Occasionally, I facilitate information between them: “Oh, I know someone who would know that. I’ll ask!”

I love this.

I do love it!

In response to this piece, one of the people I’ve known the longest asked me yesterday, “What would you say you’re an expert in?”

I pondered that and said things like,

Kinship,
Community formation,
Development of people,
Development of relationships,
Coaching,
Care.

Then, later in the conversation, knowing she would get the reference, I said, “Basically, I’m a Watcher.”

She said, “YES! OMG, you so are.”

And I laughed. I loved her big reaction to this.

Because honestly, I think I kind of am. Demons and vampires aside (though are they?) what I do on a daily basis happens to look a whole heck of a lot like Rupert Giles — Watcher to Buffy Summers and the whole “Scooby Gang” in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

And you all,
This. Is. The. Best. Calling.

–Renee Roederer, The Watcher

 

In a variety of contexts, over the last 11 years, I have been privileged to build community with and among college students. And among all the gifts of that, this is one of my very favorite aspects:

I have watched people grow from being teenagers to becoming legit experts concerning so many things.

In a combination of academic study, vocational work, and life experience, these folks I know are now experts in so many different areas. I learn a lot from them. Regularly, I bring my own curiosity questions to them. Occasionally, I facilitate information between them: “Oh, I know some who would know that. I’ll ask!”

I love this.

–Renee Roederer

A joyful story:

My Kindergarten teacher has been on my mind this week. I haven’t talked to her in decades. But today, I found myself feeling gratitude for her and the role she played for me the year I was in her class.

Over the weekend, on a whim, I wondered, how would I go about finding her? I couldn’t even remember exactly how to spell her last name, and I wasn’t sure if she still lived in the area where I grew up.

So I sent a message to someone who was in that class with me. That friend said she thought her name had changed. That turned out to be true, but an hour later, my friend had found her on Facebook.

So I dared to send her a friend request. Will she remember me? She returned the request, but still, I thought, better to assume not.

I sent her a message, said who I was, and told her what year I was in her Kindergarten class. I thanked her for being such a wonderful teacher and such an important support for me that year. Then I realized via her Facebook that it’s HER BIRTHDAY. (How perfect!)

She responded right away. I was surprised and so touched that she totally remembered me, told me she’s wondered about me all these years, then immediately told me a bunch of things she loved about me as a kid. Specific stories I don’t even remember.

What a gift in both directions.

We have a lot to catch up on. And we will!

So here’s what I’ve been thinking:

If there’s someone who keeps popping in your mind, or a connection you suddenly find yourself desiring to make, there might really be something to it. A calling, even.

Definitely a joy.

–Renee Roederer

Have you ever left a City Council meeting, walked toward an elevator, read a sign that said “Staff Only,” pushed the button anyway, walked inside, watched the doors close, traveled down, then realized you’re completely stuck, then Tweeted your way out of it?

I have.

Move over, POTUS. I too can use Twitter for purposes for which it was never designed.

Yes, this really happened to me! Yes, it was embarrassing. And it has turned into a good story. (If you know me, surprise. I like that part).

Last month in Ann Arbor, I attended a very important City Council meeting. Despite some frustrating moments and comments, overall, the meeting moved in the direction we desired. This was certainly good news.

When that portion was over, I decided to leave. The meeting was still in session, and the City Council members had moved onto other business. So I decided to take the elevator down and walk back to my car. Now. . . which way did I come into the chambers. . .?

Here is a unique factoid about me: It’s mostly endearing, but on rare occasions, it can get in my way. That is, if I have things on my mind — especially if I’m anxious, but also, simply, if I’m pondering possibilities, as I was when I entered this City Council meeting — I don’t adequately pay attention to my surroundings.

In other words, when it was time to leave, I didn’t remember how I had come into the chambers. But never fear, here is an elevator! I remember coming up on an elevator!

It says, “Staff Only Elevator.”

“Surely, that means only during work hours,” I fatefully assume. “I mean, I came up on an elevator.”

I push the button, step inside, and choose the first floor.

I go down, and the doors swing open just as they should. But. . . I immediately recognize this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. Hmm. . . I suppose this was the wrong elevator after all. . . So I push the button, requesting that the doors open so I can head back upstairs and try a different way.

The doors indeed open.

I step inside.

The doors close.

And NOTHING.

That is, NOTHING HAPPENS. Because the doors are now irrevocably shut on the first floor, and no buttons are working. “Oh my goodness,” I realize, “This requires a badge.”

This just in: I have no badge.

I am the doof who stepped into a “Staff Only Elevator.”

I keep trying to push floor buttons to no avail. I see the red, EMERGENCY ONLY button, and with utter embarrassment, I begin to ponder what will happen if I push that. Will there be an alarm? Will I disrupt the City Council meeting that is still underway? Will emergency vehicles come? Will tomorrow’s MLive article talk about this very important vote, then mention that the rest of the business was cut short when a firetruck arrived to save a person who took the wrong elevator?

I imagine people saying to me compassionately, “Oh, you must not have seen the sign that said ‘Staff only.'” And I ponder the truth, wondering if I would ever dare to say it aloud:

“Well, actually, I did see it, but due to my very poor spacial reasoning skills, I didn’t adequately remember the direction from which I entered the chamber. I only remembered coming up on an elevator, and here was an elevator, so. . .”

All of this felt mortifying to me.

But!

That’s when I remembered Twitter.

You see, friends, this very foolish error aside, I have a strong skill. I am an outside-the-box thinker! I remember, there is an entire community of people that uses a Twitter hashtag to hash out City Council meetings. #A2CityCouncil will be my saving day!

So I dare to craft an embarrassing, necessary tweet. I say,

“Okay, so this is hella embarrassing because I took an elevator that was for employees only, and now I’m on the first floor with an elevator door that won’t open. Can someone go push the elevator button on floor two so it sends me back up? #A2council”

And yes, to my further embarrassment, but even more to the necessity, people start retweeting this foolishness. And it works. The community makes a plan to collectively save me from my error (and just a little less dramatically than an emergency button) . In fact, a particular human was chosen by the community-at-large to push that button and send me back to the land of the living.

He was on his way when. . . oh, my goodness, I hear someone! An employee (you know, actual staff) was cleaning and talking on her phone. I started pounding on the elevator doors in an attempt to be just loud enough without scaring her. And that worked too.

She pushes the button to open the door, and as soon as I tell her what happened, she laughs and laughs.

I tweet again that I am free.

I walk out of that place, quite aware that I will never take a “Staff Only Elevator” again. And I tell you this tale, so that you will never follow in my not-able-to-go-anywhere footsteps.

We have a City Council meeting tonight. And God bless it it all, I’m  going to pay attention to my entry point.

–Renee Roederer

Hello, Dear Friends,

I want to take a moment to thank you personally for following my writing on Smuggling Grace. Each week, I enjoy connecting with you here. I greatly appreciate the ways you add yourselves and initiate conversations within these pieces. Thank you so much.

Twice per year, I like to invite people to give a gift to support this work. Donations large and small allow me to keep writing free of charge, and that support also contributes toward the larger vision of what I am doing in Southeast Michigan as well.

If these pieces have been meaningful to you, and you are able to give, would you like to contribute? No gift is too small, and every bit is appreciated!

Click here to support Smuggling Grace.

Your presence is also a gift. Many thanks to you all!
Renee Roederer

Over the last few days, I’ve experienced some wonderful moments of kindness and human connection from complete strangers. This happened while traveling to the Montreat Conference Center in North Carolina. In all of these little moments, I’ve found myself pondering how much can be shifted or deepened in a simple moment of kindness or connection. Three vignettes. . .

1) On Friday, I walked up to the Enterprise Rent-a-Car counter to complete a reservation and pick up a car. The person behind the counter was really wonderful, so beyond going through forms and handing over a credit card, we struck up a personal conversation too. We talked about where I live (and of course, how cold it still is). When I shared that this was my first time in Asheville, she told me she moved here just six months ago and absolutely loves the area. “Oh, where did you move from?”

She told me about where she used to live, which happens to be the place where another person in my life is likely to move soon. I began to talk up this person and this opportunity (both of which are so easy to do!) and she became very excited about all of this. She handed me her card, “Well, I want you to tell this young person that I’m really proud of them!”

Lovely.

I loved passing that along. “I just want you to know that [Name] at the Enterprise Rent-a-Car in Asheville is very proud of you.”

2) I was supposed to fly home yesterday, but in the end, that just wasn’t going to be in the cards.

When I woke up, I had a text that my first flight was going to be delayed. I wasn’t going to be able to make my connection in Atlanta, so I thought I should probably call Delta. It turns out that lots of people were being rerouted, delayed, or stranded where they were because of severe weather in the Northeast. When I called, I learned that the hold time was two hours long! There was an option for Delta to call me back, so I chose that.

About two hours later, I received that call, and I began to talk with an agent. I could make that first flight to Atlanta, but all the flights out of there to Detroit were completely full. We began to think about other connections, but those were looking iffy too. I said, “If all things are equal, and it’s likely that I’m going to have to stay overnight somewhere, I think I’d still like to fly to Atlanta because I have people I could stay with there. Then I can fly out the next day.” (Bonus visit! Which, by the way, has been wonderful!) So that’s what we ended up doing.

Then as we were finishing, she said to me,

“I just want you to know that you’ve been my favorite customer so far today. . .” It was really kind. Her voice trailed off a bit though so it was clear there was more to that story. “Oh, I bet people have been really irate today, haven’t they?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

All morning, she had been dealing with irritable people one after one. I really hadn’t done anything especially kind in comparison. I was just pretty chill about the whole thing.

She said, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

I answered gently, “Take care of yourself today. It sounds like it’s going to be a long day.”

It was lovely to connect personally over the phone in this way.

3) When I arrived at the Asheville airport, I was there pretty early, so I ate some food and spent some time at the front before going through security. When I did check in and go through security, I learned that I still had the keys to my rental car in my pocket! I had turned in the car and hour and a half before, but I had accidentally held onto the keys.

I finished security and called Enterprise. I said I would come to the counter, hand the keys over, and go through security again. It all worked out.

I headed toward the security line the second time. To give you a sense of how small the Asheville airport is, there was literally no one in line for my second journey. Just me. So I walked up to the first TSA agent, and in a sing-songy way, I said, “I’m baaaaaaack!” I handed her my boarding pass and license once more, and that’s when things shifted in the moment.

“You were born the same day as my son,” she said, seeing this license in a new way the second time. She said my birth date aloud — month, day, and year. Then with such tenderness in her voice, she said, “You’re 36 now.”

“Mmh hmm,” I answered, smiling.

“You could be my daughter,” she said declaratively with some awe in her voice. She said all of this with appreciation, authentically grateful for my presence in front of her.

I kept smiling. This was a really sweet connection I didn’t expect.

She added, “He’s coming over here soon!” She is really looking forward to this, and it’s lovely.

As I stepped away, I said, “Well, please tell your son that he has a twin in the world.”

This little interaction just filled me. All of them did. Three moments with complete strangers. I think we want to live in a world where these kinds of experiences can happen more often. And, frankly, they can. They do. Whether giving or receiving them, or both, they can be cultivated. And they really shift things.

–Renee Roederer

 

Yesterday, I spent time with some of my most beloved people. Then, while driving home, I found myself reflecting on how I felt afterward, including how I felt physically.

We often say things like, “Oh, that just fed my spirit,” or “That really lifted my spirits.” All of that is true, but these kind of experiences are ultimately embodied. We feel physically enriched when we’ve been in the presence of people we love.

Never underestimate belonging.

Then, during the drive home, I listened to a podcast episode of Hidden Brain, entitled, The Lonely American Man. This is a very important episode. It delves into research and a number personal stories that reveal the cultural socialization of boys and men to shut down emotions and cease language of intimacy in their own connections with one another. Ultimately, this leads to painful forms of isolation, impacting physical and mental health.

The opposite is true as well. The episode also gives examples of what is possible when we cultivate spaces for boys and men to be vulnerable, emotional, and connectional with others.

Never underestimate belonging.

This then reminded me of an important TED Talk by Susan Pinker. It’s entitled, The Secret to Living Longer May Be Your Social Life. Susan Pinker discusses research revealing how small interactions with acquaintances and unknown neighbors can have a large impact on health and wellness.

Never underestimate belonging.

We are living in an era of social upheaval. Anxieties and tensions are higher, and in the midst of these, people are working for collective change and greater safety. That work often requires disruption of systems and confrontation of forces that are doing harm. This is all vital.

But also, never forget that it is a radical, transformative act to cultivate spaces where people can belong –

where people can feel at home –

in their bodies, in their relationships, in their communities, in their callings, and in their purpose, toward collective purpose.

Never ever underestimate belonging.

–Renee Roederer

Can one moment of peace impact the larger scope of a day?

This morning, I woke up in a place where birds are singing loudly, and water is running quickly over rocks in a creek. Both sounds are quite inviting.

Can one moment of peace impact the larger scope of a day?

I’m going to take a walk and find out.