Smuggling Grace

I recently had the chance to join a church community in decorating a Chrismon tree. You may wonder how that differs from a Christmas tree. It’s quite similar, except all the ornaments — i.e. Chrismons — are Christian symbols. Members of the community chose a Chrismon from a bowl and then came to the tree one by one to hang their symbol.

While we were doing this, I invited everyone to reflect in one of two directions:

• If you could allow yourself to hope for something audacious, what would it be? Something that seems almost impossible?
  
• Or, if you can’t hope audaciously—or if you can’t hope at all—who is a person or community in your life that does hope? How might you let them hope for you right now? Can we let that be enough?

As we placed our Chrismons on the tree, these were the questions we held. This feels like an important time to think about hope, especially when hope it can feel so elusive.

I was reminded of an article by Dr. Dave Jensen, a theologian at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, recently published in Windows. He wrote that hope isn’t the same as optimism. It “fosters attention to places that hurt: right here, right now.” Nor is hope simply realism. “It’s not the seasoned wisdom of checking our ambitions, modifying our dreams, or settling for what is ‘possible’ giving current realities. There is much in our culture that encourages truncated hope… Nothing new will emerge; accept things as they are.” He shares that “hope, instead, encourages us to see the present world differently.”

Sometimes that’s hard work. Sometimes it’s painful. And sometimes it’s beyond us. But maybe that’s when we lean into the hopes of others and know that their hope can carry us, too.

With all this in mind, how might you reflect on those questions today?

— Renee Roederer

Dr. David H. Jensen’s article is entitled, Living Hope, and is published in Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary’s publication, Windows, Fall 2024.

— Photos by Renee Roederer

There are times when we have to say no to what is being asked of us, even if it’s good and important, in order to say yes to the most central value we have.

We have to protect it, not only because it’s important to us, but because it might be the most important role we play in community.

We can’t say yes to everything. We are limited people.

Sometimes, we have to say no so we can keep saying yes.

–Renee Roederer

And it lived in the house. Like, with the family.

And that is quite literally all I know about it. I simultaneously wish I knew more and am glad that I do not.

But I can’t resist that as a title. It’s just too good.

Over The Weekend, I Learned My Great-Grandmother Had a Pet Squirrel Named Corky.

It will remain a weird mystery.

How might these song lyrics speak to you today? (Centering Song by Andrew Peterson & Leslie Jordan)

I want to be where my feet are
I want to breathe the life around me
I want to listen as my heart beats right on time
I want to be where my feet are

A couple of years ago, my Mom woke up convinced it was her anniversary. But the truth is, she had the right day of the month, but it was a whole month early.

She began her morning by telling my Stepdad, “Happy Anniversary!” And he just went with it. All day long, he played along, wished her a happy anniversary right back, and told her he was taking her out to dinner for the occasion.

That evening, as they enjoyed their “anniversary” dinner, my Stepdad finally smiled and said, “You know, we’re actually a month early. Our anniversary is next month.” My mom laughed and laughed. I completely understand how it happened—sometimes we get something in our heads, and then we don’t question it again. I’ve done it in plenty of other ways myself.

But the best part of this story is what they decided to do next. Now, they honor the anniversary of their wrong anniversary too. They celebrate that day, just as they do their actual wedding anniversary. Each year, they give each other anniversary greetings and go out to dinner twice— once for the one they got wrong and once for the real anniversary.

I love this so much. There are so many ways to drift through life in a mundane daze, and goodness knows there are enough anxieties in the world these days. Why not take as many opportunities to celebrate as we can?

— Renee Roederer

Remember the During Times? During the most acute periods of the pandemic, we often spoke longingly of the Before Times, missing the days before we had to isolate and make cautious choices with every step. Today, COVID is still very real, and it’s not a small thing if you have it. But after vaccinations and re-openings, we’re in a different era. We may not think often about the During Times, nor invite ourselves to remember them. Who wants to do that?

My During Times were remarkably difficult. There are some things I value about that time. For instance, I learned how to genuinely enjoy my own company, a lesson that’s stuck with me. I still love traveling alone, and that independence brings me joy. But mostly, I was profoundly isolated. For 15 months, I saw about ten human beings, ever. Not ten people repeatedly — ten instances of human contact, total, and each time, at a big distance.

Simply put, I had no one to be in a bubble with me. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Day after day, I was doing a job building community for others, while I—an extrovert to the core—was entirely by myself. Every second of every day, for 1.25 years.

That’s the context. But this blog post isn’t about all that. It’s about a lasagna.

One day, one of the community members from the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan decided to give me a great gift. Her husband is a fantastic cook, and he made a big tray of lasagna. She wanted them to drive an hour to bring it to me. We had talked countless times on the phone, but we had never met in person.

So, she brought her husband and her dog, and they drove all the way to my house. We stood outside, I gave the dog some well-earned pets, and I thanked her for this gesture—for seeing me, for caring about me—the Community Care Director. It made me feel so loved.

Later, when I warmed up that lasagna, it wasn’t just a meal. It was connection. It was being seen and valued. And yes, it was delicious.

Why do I tell this story? Because in a world with so many system-wide challenges, it’s easy to feel small. But don’t ever think for a second that you can’t seriously change someone’s life with your care, your hospitality, your kindness, and your connection.

You are more empowered than you know.

— Renee Roederer

— Photos by Renee Roederer