Smuggling Grace

During these turbulent times we must remind ourselves repeatedly that life goes on.
This we are apt to forget.
The wisdom of life transcends our wisdoms;
the purpose of life outlasts our purposes;
the process of life cushions our processes.
The mass attack of disillusion and despair,
distilled out of the collapse of hope,
has so invaded our thoughts that what we know to be true and valid seems unreal and ephemeral.
There seems to be little energy left for aught but futility.
This is the great deception.
By it whole peoples have gone down to oblivion 
without the will to affirm the great and permanent strength of the clean and the commonplace.
Let us not be deceived.
It is just as important as ever to attend to the little graces
by which the dignity of our lives is maintained and sustained.
Birds still sing;
the stars continue to cast their gentle gleam over the desolation of the battlefields,
and the heart is still inspired by the kind word and the gracious deed.
There is no need to fear evil.
There is every need to understand what it does,
how it operates in the world,
what it draws upon to sustain itself.
We must not shrink from the knowledge of the evilness of evil.
Over and over we must know that the real target of evil is not destruction of the body,
the reduction to rubble of cities;
the real target of evil is to corrupt the spirit of man 
and to give his soul the contagion of inner disintegration.
When this happens,
there is nothing left,
the very citadel of man is captured and laid waste.
Therefore the evil in the world around us must not be allowed to move from without to within.
This would be to be overcome by evil.
To drink in the beauty that is within reach,
to clothe one’s life with simple deeds of kindness,
to keep alive a sensitiveness to the movement of the spirit of God
in the quietness of the human heart and in the workings of the human mind—
this is as always the ultimate answer to the great deception.

Excerpted from Meditations of the Heart by Howard Thurman

Before going to bed tonight, what if you remember and tell yourself a story of resilience — your own or one in your community? What would it be?

Also, I’d be willing to hear yours.

— Renee Roederer

This day is the one day that is before us — just this one.

If you can make it count by making it feel like it has some normalcy, or some joy, or especially some care, that is enough, and it is good.

But if that feels like rolling a boulder up a mountain right now, just take care of you as best you can. It is enough.

And as always, you are enough.

— Renee Roederer

Seven years ago, I met N.J. Phillips when we both showed up at a dinner in Ann Arbor and ended up at the same table. I had no idea that I was about to be introduced to such a tremendous person or the ways it would change the trajectory of my vocation.

As we sat at that dinner, she mentioned having epilepsy in childhood and I said, “Me too!” I had hardly ever met anyone else with epilepsy, and I had never met anyone who had so many commonalities and particularities that aligned with my own story and experiences.

She invited me to the Metro Detroit Stroll for the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan. Immediately, I had a community around that experience that I had never had before. I had no idea that one year later I would make an entire career change and join the team there.

In N.J. I found kinship and a treasured friend.

And… speaking of treasure… Over the weekend, we joined seven other people in dressing up as pirates for a murder mystery dinner.

That dinner seven years ago in Ann Arbor led to friendship, commonality that I needed, a community, a career shift, and general scalliwaggery.

— Renee Roederer

It’s the week after the 2024 Election, and a lot of people are hurting. I would say that the vast majority of people in this country have some anxiety right now, ranging from mild to debilitating.

Here are some thoughts:

— If all you can do right now is sleep, rest, take medications, eat, and shower as best you can, that’s actually really big, and it’s okay for this to be enough.

— I think generally, it’s good to acknowledge big fears and honor how they feel, but also try as best we can to live in the day we’re in, both in its gifts and its challenges. A lot of the things we most fear haven’t happened yet. Some have, but others haven’t. Some might, and we can be proactive. But they also might not. And we have some very real ways of shaping those outcomes, even if we don’t control everything that happens.

— My biggest advice is to get involved in community. And I mean this in more than one way. Way number 1: If you are able to do it, get in the presence of other human beings, especially those we love. This calms our nervous systems, and we all deserve to feel that. We can cry, or just be, or have fun with abandon. We may need any or all of these. Way number 2: Find a community (you might already have one) where you can get involved in actions that care for others and meet people’s tangible needs. It might be a knitting club, a running group, a house of worship, a nonprofit organization, an activism organizing collective, a neighborhood circle, a friend-circle, or a political organization. Find one of these that is providing community care for group members and working actively to build positive change for people beyond the group itself. Be all-in in one of these communities or multiple of these communities. Don’t let anyone tell you that this isn’t valid, or “not the right kind of activism” (caveat, unless it’s actually hurting people) or “not enough” or “not worthy work.” It is. You have particular circles and gifts that are not replicable by all people. We need everyone’s uniqueness in building a better world — everyone’s best abilities and commitments, and everyone’s access to particular relationships with specific needs.

— You matter. You matter. You matter.

— Your neighbors matter. Your neighbors matter. Your neighbors matter.

— The communities of people you hear on the news are people who have names. Remember them. And allow yourselves to imagine that some of them may be remembering you (even if they don’t know your names).

— Think of people who have believed in you and your communities: the elders who sheltered you, chose you, mirrored you, and told you you’re the cat’s pajamas. (Maybe they didn’t say that exactly, but you are). All the things they saw in you have been and are real. Make them proud.

— You are loved, loveable, and capable of loving.

— If you find yourself thinking that none of it matters, or that your best work is just being washed away, grieve in ways you need to grieve, or get angry, but know this: Caring for one another in our communities is never fruitless. It wasn’t then; it isn’t now.

— Renee Roederer

— Photos by Renee Roederer

Thank you.

So many people have reached out to me over the last couple of days, just as I have reached out to many people. Beautiful exchanges have been shared. I’ve heard,

“How’s your heart?”

“I just want you to know I’m here.”

“Love you, miss you, please don’t forget to care for yourself as I see you caring for others.”

“Make sure you’re getting enough sleep. Protect your brain!”

“When [___] happened, I thought of you.”

“Love you.” (This one, I’ve heard repeatedly.)

Every bit of this has meant so much to me. Threats are not even, and we must remember those most impacted. Most often, that is not me. Yet sorrows and love are carried collectively.

Here’s what has meant so much to me:

First of all, the abundance of community care has been on display so beautifully in many directions over the last few days. I hope this is finding its way to you too. If not, please let this particular post be one tiny piece of it. [3… 2… 1… mmmh!]

Personally, I’ve been in a place of profound gratitude to hear from so many people, and so meaningfully. I’m not necessarily surprised, but I’m definitely touched. I can easily think of a number chapters in my life that stretched out long when I was placed in a caregiving role without the ability to have much of that care flow back. When I was younger… during COVID… (oh so much during COVID)… when I’ve had to be a “professional” and couldn’t easily be considered part the community myself. (By the way, I believe in behaving professionally, i.e. ethically, but with only a few exceptions, I don’t think people are often served best with that kind of distance.)

Anyway, none of that is true in this moment. None of it. It’s just care in all directions, and I have felt it so deeply. Good to be in it with you.

— Renee Roederer

Image text — A quote from Ehima Ora:

You gotta resurrect the deep pain with you and give it a place to live that’s not within your body.

Let it live in art. Let it live in writing. Let it live in music. Let it be devoured by building brighter connections.

Your body is not a coffin for pain to be buried in. Put it somewhere else.

I have so many wise, loving, and beautiful friends. On social media, which can be known for doomscrolling, misinformation, and the banal memeification of complex existence, these friends can lament faithfully, and then express true hope and perspective centered in loving neighbors and whole communities — all without any denialism or putting any heads in the sand.

What I’m saying is that when I scroll through my feeds today, I see so many brilliant ways of making meaning and casting vision, right at the precise moment people are exhausted, alert, and scared.

And I just think that takes great gifts of resilience and fortitude. I love you so much.

— Renee Roederer

I am trying not to panic, but I, too, am so scared right now.

We’re not wrong for feeling vulnerable. We’re not wrong that the most vulnerable among us are made remarkably more vulnerable.

And in grief, I am missing people tonight who I wish I could call and talk to about this.

I am not prepared to lose even the nominal amount of justice and order we have in a country that is already frequently unjust to vulnerable people. I don’t think I am prepared for that level of grief and chaos. I am scared of where we’re going. I’m scared of how much people are willing to give over.

All of that is true.

And

I will also say this:

So much is uncertain, but what I will not lose is loving my community. What I will not lose is loving you.

— Renee Roederer