Speak to Me Sunday: Ripples in a Pond

It was a blustery morning, dark and cold, when I entered a local grocery store. Working there was a cashier, an Indian woman, who always smiled warmly at me when she rang up my groceries. I always felt as if I knew her, and the way she interacted with me I felt as if she knew me too, but it never went beyond exchanging smiles and pleasantries.

On that morning, however, with the storm raging outside and the store mostly empty, she stopped ringing up my purchases and leaned forward.

“I don’t know if you remember, but in 2015 you gave me a note with a gift card,” she said quietly. “Do you remember?”

I shook my head.

“I have always kept it. It was such a nice thing to do, and I always wanted to speak to you about it. Then this morning I woke up and said a prayer for you. I prayed you would come in today, but with the storm I did not think it was possible. And yet, here you are.”

“And here I am,” I said, smiling.

As we talked, a vague memory surfaced of a handwritten note but not of the circumstances or the reasons behind it. And I recognized this for what it was, a George Bailey moment whereby I was offered a glimpse of a past action—something I could not even remember—and the impact it had on someone, so much so that she brought it up nine years later.

Every action, no matter how tiny, can change the course of someone’s day. We know this. But it was strangely humbling to be reminded it does not stop there for that single, tiny action—a smile, note, gesture, or kindness—can grow, expand, and reach out in ways we cannot even imagine. Or see. Like ripples in a pond that continue expanding beyond our line of vision, beyond that moment, or even that day.

Sometimes life can be overwhelming, making it all too easy to give up, take a step back, and think there is nothing, absolutely nothing that you can do to make a difference. It becomes all too easy to set up an all or nothing scenario, of dismissing the littles things that have become overshadowed by bigger, louder issues. It becomes all too easy to think “What does it matter?”

But as I was reminded on that stormy morning, it does matter.

More than you think.

“I alone cannot change the world,” Mother Teresa said. “But I can cast a pebble across the water to create many ripples.”

Warm Fuzzies in a Needlepoint Shop

Last month, the week after Christmas, I went with Caroline and Lauren to Augusta Needlepoint on Monte Sano Avenue. Caroline was sharing the needlepoint world with us, and walking around the historic home (converted to a needlepoint shop) we were amazed. 

At one point the salesperson came over to speak to us, and after I introduced myself I gestured to Caroline and Lauren and said, "And these are my daughters-in-law."

Just saying "daughters-in-law" gave me the warm fuzzies. At that very moment, the guys were all home watching television (football? basketball? golf?) and there I was ...  standing in a needlepoint shop with my daughters-in-law. 

I love my daughters-in-law!

And today is Caroline's birthday, so I wish her a very happy, needlepointy birthday!

Augusta Needlepoint

Speak to Me Sunday: Listen, Children, to a Story

The Chinese character for the word “listen” is made by combining two main characters: one depicting the ears, and the other depicting the heart. Why? Because listening wholeheartedly with undivided attention requires the use of not only the ears, but also the heart.

Do you hear what I hear?

In today’s world of Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, everyone has a voice. With posts, tweets and blogs, people are vying to be heard. With news broadcasts, radio programs, talk shows and podcasts, the entire country is talking. Everyone wants to offer their opinions, confer their beliefs, and promote their political agenda. And by golly, everyone better listen.  

But what happens when what we are saying is not getting through? When our words scatter in the wind like confetti?

The talking gets louder. And faster. It becomes accusatory (“You’re not listening to me!”) and dismissive (“I am right. You are wrong. End of discussion.”) and very, very judgmental (“Who do you think you are?”). The talking resorts to name-calling and labels people as Democrat or Republican, Christian or non-Christian, mask wearers or non-mask wearers, black or white. We reduce the entire essence of a person or group into one tiny label until that label is all we see anymore.

Then, to make sure we are not alone, we create kingdoms with others who are like-minded; we build our walls, put up our fences, climb our tall towers, draw lines in the sand. We form political parties and special interest groups. We hold town hall meetings and political rallies. And we continue to talk, talk, talk mainly to others who are just. like. us.

All this talk, but is anyone really listening?

Civil discourse is a lost art. Once upon a time people listened with the intent to understand; but today it seems people listen with the intent to reply.

The world, more than ever, is so complicated. So much of what is going on right now is messy and uncertain and scary. But instead of uniting us, we have become divisive; instead of rising to the occasion, we are wallowing in the mud.

One day a student and teacher were talking.

“How can a decent, respectful human being understand the real-world situation?” asked the student.

“Always listen wholeheartedly to both sides and you will be enlightened,” the teacher responded. “Listen to only one side and you will be left in the dark.”

The thing is, you cannot change someone’s mind by yelling at them, pointing a finger, or calling them names; you cannot solidify your position by toppling statues or breaking windows; you cannot show someone the way when you have shoved them to the ground.

You cannot talk of love when you spew hate.

It really does not have to be this way, and the solution is not that complicated. If you build a wall, put in a door; if you isolate yourself in tall tower, lower a ladder; if you a draw a line in the sand, extend a hand over it.

Do not try to change someone else’s mind. Instead listen to their unique story, tell them yours, and discover common ground. 

After all, the most basic of all human needs is to understand and be understood.

And the best way to understand people is to listen to them. 

With both your ears and your heart.

Tea with Jane Austen

This past Tuesday an all-day power outage resulted in the most perfect ambiance to discuss Jane Austen’s books. With candles flickering in every room and tea served in vintage teacups, it was a very Jane Austen-y Book Club gathering. All that was missing was Mr. Darcy.

P. S. Members of our Book Club decided to use the Christmas holidays to read a Jane Austen novel of their choice. This way, we were able to discuss and compare all of Jane Austen's novels during our January Book Club meeting.

Books: A Year in Review

I know there are a lot of reading challenges out there, but I never like to set a reading goal. For me, reading is an organic process which means I read what I read. 

Last year, my book selections were very eclectic: a talking octopus, an opioid crisis, a hockey team, the obligatory WWII novel; I read a couple of fantasy books (not my favorite genre) and two books in Italian; I returned to some of my favorite authors (Barbara Kingsolver, Charles Frazier, Pat Conroy) and reread some books from past years; one book took me a year to finish. 

Below is my complete 2023 reading list along with my Top Three Reads (and two Honorable Mentions). The highlighted books are the ones I read for Book Club. I started reading the very last book, Shogun, in December 2022 and finished it just three weeks ago, not because I did not like it, but because it is incredibly detailed and the Japanese names and ancient culture had me stopping to google things all the time. I may be wrong, but Shogun should count as five books. 

Anyway, happy reading!

2023 Reading List: Top Three 

(with honorable mentions)

1- Cutting for Stone (by Abram Verghese)

A compelling, beautiful book about twin brothers living in Ethiopia who take different pathways in the medical field. It is a book about doctors and patients, exile and home, jealousy and love, forgiveness and sacrifice, and the power, intimacy, and curious beauty found in the work of healing others. 

I will be reading this one again. 

2- Demon Copperhead (by Barbara Kingsolver)

I could not put this book down. Set in the mountains of Appalachia, this is the story of boy who struggles to survive despite being trapped by institutional poverty, foster care, child labor, and addiction. The book brings to light the opioid crisis in America, specifically among the poor and uneducated. It was an eye-opening book by one of my favorite authors.

3- Remarkably Bright Creatures (by Shelby Van Pelt)

Honestly, if my good friend had not highly recommended this book, I probably would have passed on it because ... Hello? A talking octopus named Marcellus? Yes, indeed. But it is Marcellus, who lives in an aquarium, who cracks the loneliness of a 70-year-old widow with a painful past who works as a nighttime cleaner. A truly remarkable novel. 

4- The Language of Flowers (by Vanessa Diffenbaugh) (Honorable Mention)

Weaving a story between the past and the present, this novel is about a woman who overcomes her troubled past through the language of flowers. It is a beautiful novel. 

5- Nightwoods (by Charles Frazier) (Honorable Mention)

Because I have read this book before, I was not sure if it was fair to mention it again. But, I liked this book the first time I read it, and I liked it even more the SECOND time when I listened to it on audible, (which I highly recommend because the narrator, Will Patton, is phenomenal). The novel is about a young woman, Luce, who inherits her murdered sister's troubled twins. It is a sad, violent, beautiful, and redemptive story. It is also a love story. 

It is also interesting that two books I have listed are set in the mountains of Appalachia. 

2023 Reading List

1-     The Four Winds (Kristin Hannah)

2-     The Last Anniversary (Lian Moriarity)

3-     Luncheon of the Boating Party (Susan Vreeland)

4-     South of Broad (Pat Conroy)

5-     The Language of Flowers (Vanessa Diffenbaugh)

6-     Women in Sunlight (Frances Mayes)

7-     The Paris Apartment (Lucy Foley)

8-     Remarkably Bright Creatures (Shelby Van Pelt)

9-     The Olive Branch (Jo Thomas)

10-  The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)

11-  Flight Behavior (Barbara Kingsolver)

12-  Demon Copperhead (Barbara Kingsolver)

13-  Iona Iverson’s Rules for Commuting (Clare Pooley)

14-  Sense and Sensibility (Jane Austen)

15-  Persuasion (Jane Austen)

16-  A Court of Thorn and Roses (Sarah J. Maas)

17-  A Court of Mist and Fury (Sarah J. Maas)

18-  The Trackers (Charles Frazier)

19-  Thirteen Moons (Charles Frazier)

20-  Nightwoods (Charles Frazier)

21-  Mad Honey (Jodi Picoult)

22-  Mudbound (Hillary Jordan)

23-  All the Light We Cannot See (Anthony Doerr)

24-  After You (Jojo Moyes)

25-  Big Little Lies (Liane Moriarty)

26-  To Tell You the Truth (Gilly MacMillan)

27-  The King: The Life of Charles III (Christopher Andersen)

28-  Beartown (Frederik Backman)

29-  Us Against You (Frederik Backman)

30-  The Winners (Frederik Backman)

31-  10 Minutes 38 Seconds in this Strange World (Elif Shafak)

32-  Local Woman Missing (Mary Kubica)

33-  We Are All the Same in the Dark (Julia Heaberlin)

34-  Playing Dead (Julia Heaberlin)

35-  Black-Eyed Susans (Julia Heaberlin)

36-  Running Barefoot (Amy Harmon)

37-  The Silent Patient (Alex Michaelides)

38-  Beach Music (Pat Conroy)

39-  Harry Potter e la pietra filosofale (#1) (J.K. Rowling)

40-  Harry Potter e la camera dei segreti (#2) (J.K. Rowling)

41-  UnSub (Meg Gardiner)

42-  Code Name Verity (Elizabeth Wein)

43-  Cutting for Stone (Abraham Verghese)

44-  Shogun (James Clavell)

The Gift of Again

 Yesterday, we put away Christmas.

We packed away the ribbons and tags; we stored away packages, boxes, and bags.

We basically undid everything we did a month and a half ago. All that fuss to prepare and just like that it is over. Next December we will repeat the process again.

As I watched all the vestiges of Christmas disappear, it dawned on me how much of life is comprised of repeated actions: decorate for Christmas, undecorate for Christmas; throw a load in the washer, and two days later another load goes in; rake the leaves, and do it again after a windy day; say “no” to a toddler, and repeat that one word for the next 18 years; go to church on Sunday, go to church EVERY Sunday. Then there are birthday celebrations, wellness checkups, New Year resolutions, good intentions, and yes, even mistakes. All done on repeat.

The pessimists of the world may see this as drudgery, that with the repetitions we are like Sisyphus in Greek mythology, doomed for all eternity to push a huge boulder to the top of the mountain only to have to repeat the process when it rolls back down again.

But in putting away Christmas, in repeating a process I will do again, I recognized it for what it was: the Gift of Again.

The life we live, in big ways and small, reflects and works in harmony with the seasons in nature, the cycles of the moon, the rising and setting of the sun, the liturgical seasons of the church, the passage of time. And between the bookends of birth and death, the Gift of Again allows us to see, breathe, taste, feel, and experience the same things, but in different ways.

What a precious gift to have the chance to relive and build upon. A moment to straddle yesterday and tomorrow and to merge the two for a more meaningful present.

So I packed away the ribbons and tags, the packages, boxes, and bags. Again.

Hallelujah!

Speak to Me Sunday: Spiritual Promptings

On this rainy morning, the third Sunday of Advent, I made a New Year’s Resolution. And it stemmed from a chance encounter in the Christmas aisle in Target.

Last week I took a deep breath and went to Target around lunchtime. Not the best time during this time of year. As I wandered the Christmas aisles, several times I crossed paths with a mother with two toddlers in a shopping cart. The mother looked harried while the toddlers behaved just how you would imagine toddlers would act at lunchtime: they were loud, whiney, and periodically threw things out of the shopping cart. The mother picked things up from the ground, told them to stop, and gave them a fruit snack, all while trying to shop. The whining and pushing worsened.

At one point I heard her whisper fiercely to her children that they’d better sit their “asses down” or else.

Listening from one aisle over, I was equal parts horrified (the cursing) and bemused (I remember those days), but quickly settled more on horrified. Who uses that language with such young children?  I mean, how horrible! The drama from the shopping cart escalated. I saw an elderly lady roll her eyes, and another customer grew exasperated as she maneuvered her cart around the chaos.

It was at this moment I realized how the problem was not with the young mother and her children, but with how Grinch-like the rest of us were behaving—judging, assuming and, yes, mom-shaming.

I then felt a spiritual prompting. I remembered the $5 Starbucks gift card in my wallet, and this is what I thought I should do: find the woman, commiserate how we have all had “those days” with our children and that things do get better. I could tell her how my two older boys once got into a scuffle at the checkout lane. I could say, “Here, from one mom to another, have a cup of coffee on me.”

That was what I felt prompted to do, but by nature I am not an impulsive person. I live in my head. Sometimes too much. By the time I acted on the spiritual prompting, the woman and her children had disappeared. I wandered around the store looking for them, but they were gone.

I had missed an opportunity to change the course of someone’s day.

Several times this week I sat down to write about this episode but was not sure what I wanted to say. Don’t judge, maybe. Offer some grace, perhaps.

Then, as I reread my clumsy attempts to put the episode into words, I recognized the heart of the story: spiritual promptings are a call to do something more, something bigger than we may be comfortable doing which, for me, means recognizing when to get out of my head. And out of my comfort zone. After all, a spiritual prompt is more than a thought. It is a gentle nudge to spur us into action with the knowledge that God does not call the trained, he trains the called.

And this is why, on a rainy third Sunday of Advent, I made a New Year’s resolution.