Image Description: The Huron River with leaves of various colors along both sides. Photo, Renee Roederer
For the last week, bit by bit, I’ve been walking the Border to Border Trail — otherwise known as the B2B — throughout my county. From start to finish, it’s 70 miles long, so I suspect I’ll be walking it for a good while!
Most of it follows the Huron River. I’ve enjoyed this new endeavor throughly. Right in the peak of autumn colors in Michigan, I’ve captured many beautiful images and shared them on social media.
When you slow yourself to a walking pace, as opposed to driving through town quickly, you notice many details you would otherwise miss. But my favorite experience has involved finding entire stretches of my county I didn’t know existed. When I’ve discovered them along the way, I’ve feltso much delight.
Image Description: A dirt and gravel pathway in Frog Island Park in Ypsilanti, MI. There is grass to the right and trees on the left with yellow, red, orange, and green leaves. Photo, Renee Roederer.
I’ve found three, totally-unknown-to-me stretches of nature in my county. I suspect I’ll discover many more.
Image Description: Pine cones piled together. Photo, Renee Roederer.
In the midst of this, I’ve also felt so much curiosity. I’m deeply in the moment, eager to explore these new settings.
Image Description: A close up of red leaves and branches.
And I wonder…
… how might I apply the same level of presence, curiosity, and exploration to my daily routines and work?
… how might I explore new experiences inside buildings and with people after this pandemic eases?
Image Description: A black and white name tag sticker says, “Hello, my name is” with a blank space to write a name.
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.
Image Description: Light shining through the trees of a forest.
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.
Image Description: Six young people are sitting on a concrete wall. The photo is taken from behind them. Public domain image.
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.
Image Description: Scenery around the Huron River in Ann Arbor, MI. There are stones and wildflowers in the foreground and trees with red, yellow, orange, and green leaves in the distance.
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.
Image: With a black background behind her, Mary Oliver is wearing a black turtleneck and smiling. I found this image here.
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…
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.
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.
Smuggling Grace 