Is there a larger narrative that you want your life to mean?
a vision more expansive than your fears, than your pain, than your abandonment, than your guilt, than your anger, than your regret, than your grief, than your addictions, than your cynicism, than your anxiety, than your unease.
These feelings and experiences are valid and can be felt and processed, rather than pushed to the side.
But what larger narrative and vision energizes you and lights you up with sacred possibility?
Could we perhaps spend time intentionally cultivating that. Dreaming that. Practicing that. Acting on that.
A prickly pear cactus in Austin, Texas. Photo: Renee Roederer
Dr. Cynthia Rigby was one of my theology professors at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, and she was one of my most significant influences from those years. On more than one occasion, I remember her saying something wise about play, rest, and renewal — something I still think about often. I’m paraphrasing here, so this isn’t an exact quote, but it’s close to her point. She said:
“So often we imagine play, rest, renewal, and Sabbath as recreation — time away from the rat race, a chance to step out of it for a while so we can rest up and then jump back in a little more rejuvenated. But… what if play, rest, renewal, and Sabbath are actually re-creation? What if we engage them in such a way that they actually change us and the rat race itself?”
That’s really wise. I want that re-creation. I imagine we all do.
There are times when we step away from our typical rhythms and something in us is re-created — with new hopes, new commitments to healthier patterns, and new priorities (or the ones we’ve always had but left untended).
When the ball began to drop in New York City during the final seconds of December 31, 1986, crossing us over into a new year called 1987, I was too young to stay up and watch. But I do have a very vivid memory from the next morning.
I was coloring, and since I had just learned to read, I was enjoying learning the names of my Crayola crayons. These included more than the classic rainbow shades. I also had peach, periwinkle, and not to be undone in creativity, orange-red and red-orange.
While coloring, I asked my Mom a strange question:
“Mom, when will it be 1987 again?”
She looked confused, and I don’t blame her.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s 1987 this year. How many years will it take to be 1987 again?”
We went round and round — perhaps ironically — before she understood what I was getting at. I had assumed that our keeping of time was somehow cyclical. It might take a very long while, but someday, I figured, it would be 1987 all over again.
She finally said, “Oh, it’s only going to be 1987 once. Just one time. Next year it will be 1988, and the years will keep getting bigger. We will have 1987 all of this year, but then it will never be 1987 again.”
This made me a little sad.
I was thinking about that again this morning. I’m not saying that December 1, 2025 is going to be the most significant day of our lives, but it is only going to be December 1, 2025 once. Move over, YOLO. IOTO — It’s Only Today Once.
Sure, maybe it’s not the most meaningful day ever. I confirm this as I look out the window at the gray sky. But if we only get this day one time, we might as well not waste it on things that don’t matter or that pull us away from the things that matter most.
Earlier this week, I was reading a New York Times newsletter that mentioned a sideways forest in Poland. “What’s that?” I thought. I found out more on YouTube. These trees are weird! And a mystery.
And I found this video about them from 12-Years-Younger Hank Green.
I recently came upon this translated quotation from Lao Tzu, in the 17th Chapter of the Tao Te Ching:
“A leader is best when people barely know he exists. When his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.”
This flies in the face of cultures where individuals tend to be competitive and leaders tend to be coercive.
The best leadership takes place through guidance and empowerment — inviting people to play to their strengths. And when those strengths are working side by side, everyone is contributing meaningfully.
This kind of leadership is less about directing and more about creating conditions where people can thrive. It cultivates confidence, shared ownership, and a sense of collective possibility. When people feel trusted and capable, they often discover capacities they didn’t know they had — and that’s when real transformation becomes possible.
A fortune cookie split open. The fortune reads, “It’s quality rather than quantity that counts. Do a good job tomorrow.” Public domain image.
My title really says it. This year, I ducked invitations, and I’m not traveling anywhere. Things have been so busy as of late that I just really need some time to myself.
I won’t be eating turkey. I might get some Chinese food. Mostly, I’ll be streaming shows, listening to podcasts, and resting.
I bet some people will call, and when they do, I’ll answer and enjoy greeting them. But I won’t be seeing anyone, and I’m really looking forward to time curled up at the house.
Do you need some time to yourself? Maybe not for the holiday, but sometime? I’ll encourage you to take it too.
We’re wrapping up November. In the last week or so, what if we made it NOvember?
We can reflect upon, choos3, and act upon what it means to say, “No.”
This might mean… — saying no to tasks that aren’t best for us to do, — saying no to what brings down our energy, — saying no to beliefs that no longer serve us, — saying no to narratives (external, internal, or cultural) that are painful distortions, — saying no to injustices, — saying no to systemic ways of doing harm, — saying no to old patterns we no longer want, — saying no to doing too much, — saying no to unreasonable expectations, — saying no to… (fill in the blank)
And I’m also going to reflect upon, choose, and act upon this realization: When we say “no,” to some things, we are making way to say “yes” to other things.
We are making space for our best affirmations, intentions, and priorities.
Yesterday afternoon, about 60 people gathered in a graveyard, and together, they encircled the casket of their loved one. The experience was at times playful and at other times poignant. I had met this loved one a few times, and in fact, I had just seen her three weeks ago.
But I am very close to her daughter, and I was there to support her as she offered a eulogy for her Mother.
“She’s a work of art,” I thought as I listened to my friend speak. It takes such strength to write something so meaningful and to speak it aloud while surrounded by that circle. In such moments, everything means; nothing is insignificant. Everything carries meaning, and everything expresses meaning. I was impressed not only by her ability to speak her own truth and memories but also by the way she made sacred space for others to do the same, all while feeling the emotions of the present moment.
A beautiful life, A complicated life, We are all so beautiful and complicated.
As we stood around this circle, my friend said, “I was struck by something one of my Mom’s friends said recently. The people around my Mom’s life are a web, and what affects one affects everyone.”
Someone else then offered to sing and repeated the words, “We are woven together,” as part of a chorus.
I thought, does anything matter more than that web? The people who surround our life, and the people whose lives we surround?
Though I love it, I’ve been too focused on the details of work lately. I’m not talking about the community within that work. I mean I’ve been way too focused on to-do lists. I’ve been rushing. I’ve been stressed. My muscles are often tense.
If the work isn’t connected to that web, it’s just a stress-inducing list. But when that web is formed across all our spheres of life — family (born and chosen), friends, daily rhythms, and yes, work — then it is worth our energy.
It’s better to do our living and loving with that vision in mind.
Smuggling Grace 