Smuggling Grace

Earlier this week, I attended a talk by a former CEO of a family-owned company. It was advertised as a lecture, so people likely expected to hear insights about business strategies and management tactics. But instead, I experienced something much richer.

There were no PowerPoint slides. No outline of key business takeaways. Instead, he sat before us in a small group, now in his mid-70s, sharing stories and personal wisdom. He spoke about changing company culture, prioritizing employees who are curious and open, and building trust within teams. But what struck me most was what he shared about his own life and personal growth.

At a critical point earlier in his career, he went to therapy during a difficult period of change. He shared how this experience shaped him, describing how the therapist would ask, “And how did that make you feel?”

“I’d say, ‘Well, I think…’” he explained, then mimicked his therapist’s gentle persistence. “I hear that, but I didn’t ask what you think. I’m curious about how it made you feel.” This experience helped him access his emotions and grow wisdom within them.

“That experience changed my life,” he said. “And this is what I want you to know: anyone can change if they’re motivated to do it. Sadly, it usually takes something very difficult or life-altering to push us in that direction. But anyone can do it.” And he recommended therapy.

I loved that this talk—presumably framed around business acumen—became an opportunity to share how real transformation can take place when we’re willing to ask big questions of ourselves and the cultures we want to create. Here was a man who had held a powerful position, now openly reflecting on how therapy shaped his growth and changed his trajectory.

It was a reminder that real insight doesn’t always come in the form we expect. And maybe the best wisdom is the kind that surprises us.

— Renee Roederer

In my work, have the great privilege of leading a number of support groups. Together, these groups are called the Call and Connect Network, and participation is segmented based on age or connection to epilepsy.

Here is something I think about often:

When a community is organized around one thing, they’re organized for anything.

In ways that are deeply significant to inclusion and wellbeing, if we organize a community around one thing — in this case, epilepsy — that community is now in place to care with, for, and about the additional needs of life that emerge. This is because we have created a relational network. In shared kinship and connection, beyond the organizing center, we can also carry each other’s grief. We can rejoice in each other’s celebrations. We can pitch in with resources or referrals if someone needs food, housing, financial assistance, or social connection. The relational center is epilepsy, but this becomes about the fuller range of our lives, too.

When a community is organized around one thing, they’re organized for anything.

This can also involve play and social connection. One of these groups met recently, and multiple people discovered that they had the Tigers game on in the background. So with enjoyment, we moved back and forth between epilepsy topics and updates about the baseball game. Neuromodulation — someone stole 2nd base — stigma has gotten better over time — they’re changing pitchers — epileptologists and nurse practitioners — the Tigers scored!

Everyone participated in all of these directions, and I got the sense that everyone was enjoying the whole of it. If you organize a connectional space around one thing, you have relational space for all things.

— Renee Roederer

I went to a Get Out the Vote event last night. Beyond signing in and sharing our commitment to vote for Harris/Walz, there was no talk of the election. We were invited to a bowling alley for this event by a description that read, “Do you like bowling? Do you like Democracy? Do you like joy?”

There is a time for play, and a time for rejoicing.

But then I came home, and I saw social media posts with pain about the invasion into Lebanon and an article about Dearborn, Michigan, where the majority of the population are Lebanese immigrants. In that article, many shared that they don’t feel comfortable voting this year, because they don’t believe either party is willing to protect the lives of their families. And these lives deserve freedom and protection.

Additionally, I spent part of the day with Jewish friends in my town, where anti-Semitism continues to grow; where a young, Jewish student was recently assaulted; where people are also afraid for their families in Israel; and where the summer was described as “intense.” These pains are right here in our towns. And these lives deserve freedom and protection.

There is a time for grieving, and a time for protecting.

This is a time to be present, listen, care, and act.

—Renee Roederer

Dwight Wilson, a member of my chosen family, is a writer of Modern Psalms. In fact, he has published multiple books of them (Check them out here!) He recently shared this one on social media, and it spoke to me. I hope it will do the same for you as well. He graciously allowed me to share it here:

PSALM 53124

Knowing the futility in our actions
You watch us hustling and bustling
while claiming we are being efficient.

Pausing to breathe and listen for Your voice,
we find greenery in mid-winter trees
for life itself is more than movement.

Thank You for the will to stop doing
and the courage to begin being
in harmony with Your graceful vision.

Life itself is more than movement. That is a good message for a Mental Health Monday. May we pause, allow ourselves to be present, and find the greenery in mid-winter trees.

— Photos by Renee Roederer

I recently shared an image of my first-ever hydrangea bloom at my house, and I wrote about it as an analogy for nurturing community. I invite you to read,

I Totally Did/Didn’t Do That

I arrived home yesterday afternoon after spending time with national colleagues at the Epilepsy Foundation Leadership Conference. Giving a nod to the awareness color for our community, the theme for the conference was, “Paint the Future Purple.” When I approached my front door, with great surprise, my newly-turned-purple hydrangea took my breath away.

Having spent time with my wider community in Atlanta this last week, painting the future purple, I continue to be surprised by the power of what can be created, simply by making space for joyful possibilities.

— Renee Roederer

“How did we get to the point where loving your enemy is weak and loving your neighbor is woke?”

-James Talarico

@jamestalarico

♬ original sound – James Talarico

Jia and Zuri say they are twins. In fact, they tell everyone. They are four years old and go to the same preschool. They are remarkably close and sometimes assert their unique relationship by choosing to wear matching clothes.

Jia is white, and Zuri is black.

When folks ask them what makes people twins, the girls say, “Similarities.” They talk about how they are more than just sisters — certainly more than best friends. Their birthdays are close together, and they are the same height. They like the same things.

Recently, at a birthday party, another child told them they can’t be twins because of their different skin colors. Jia began to cry, but then, she responded with this statement: “We’re twins because we share the same soul.”

Very sweet.

It may also feel precarious. It is easy to wonder how society might deny these girls their connection, and worse, over time, treat them differently based on race.

But they demonstrate a deep connection that sustains them. They assert a vision for that connection with familial language. Why do we insist that things must be literally true, when they are in fact truer than true?

This is Kinship.

I wonder what we could learn from them.

–Renee Roederer