As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For June 2024, the quote that centered me was: Create what you wish existed.  

We each exist in different large, complex systems. Work, church, school, and family to name a few. But we often forget about the most complex system in which we reside, ourselves. A mindfulness practice I participated in as a member of the Radiant Leader community brought my own system into a new focus… and just how much I can create and recreate it.

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month:

• Your alignment comes from your foundation
• Some how grace has found me, and I to let her in
• Just like that, your life can change with what the angels send
• Body and heart are already free and the door is wide open
• I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set attention him free
• More space
• He did not know he could not fly, so he did
• The joy of every day
• We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share
• No one has a hard time listening to something that is interesting
• I am enough; I can make anywhere home
• He’s one of those who knows that life is just a leap of faith; Spread your arms and hold your breath; Always trust your cape.
• To be, beyond

There I was on a Friday morning with several other Radiant Leaders on a monthly Zoom call exploring. While we often explore change and leadership, that Friday, I sat there exploring a thick, damn cold, melting ice cube that was laying in the palm of my right hand.

I explored my mind: Did I just want to drop off the call? Did others think this was odd. Why was I doing this? What if I sat here and just watched and listened? How long is this going to go on?

Since I wished to learn and be more mindful of how I show up and respond to those around me, I decided I would do the mindful practice fully and hold on to that ice cube, no matter what. I continued the practice.

I explored my body: The cold of my palm and fingers from the ice cube. The wet skin from the melt of the ice cube. The tightness of my fingers from the cold. The tenseness of my shoulders as I focused on what was happening in my hand. The warmth in other parts of my body that I sought to mentally move to my hand. My skin getting pink from the cold.

Since I wished to be more present in the big and small moments of my life, I settled in and accepted each bodily sensation. I continued the practice.

I explored disruption when the host guided us to keep the ice cube in our right hand and start to rub the pointer and thumb together in our left hand. Because of my fixation on the ice cube, it took me a minute to calibrate and get the fingers in my left hand moving – a bit like a rub your stomach and pat your head moment for me.

Since I wanted to see where all this led and how it might help me be a better me, I sat there, ice cube in my right hand and fingers rubbing in the left. I continued the practice.

I sat there with my brain and body wrestling and chatting. Unsettled busy bodies. Then space opened up between the comments, and long, calm pauses filled my system. My left fingers took away the overwhelm of the ice cube in my right, and an equilibrium occurred. My body relaxed. Controlled focus shifted to curious acceptance. I continued the practice.

Upon reflection, I learned my brain is quick to distract, discourage, and dig in (as I never thought about putting the cube down like others). I realized my body is a better radar for my system than my thoughts. I came to embrace the patience of practice. I came to understand I can create peace in my system.

What do you wish create?  

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For May 2024 my quote was simply a word, “Align.”

I chose align partly because of its simplicity. One word. To get things in a row, organized. While there was a bit of organization that needed to be done after a year focused on caregiving, it was more than that. I felt out of alignment, like parts of me didn’t fit like they used to. A bit like a shirt shrunk in the wash or going back to college or your hometown and seeing how much you’d changed and grew since you were there but yet, still the same. Upon reflection, what I sought was inner congruence—alignment of, as one definition wrote, “your genuine essence, our deepest passions, and your unique talents.”  As I sought to align, or realign, here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention throughout the month:

• To perceive the world in binary is to forgo knowledge of the divine
• And then, I realized what you do with an idea—you change the world
• The work, it seems, for us is to draw sustenance from that central, eternal space without denying the experience of the storm—so to find the center and spread our battered wings is to feel the God within
• Sticky bits
• You are here to enrich the world
• Joy is a birthright
• Each of us are tiny waives on the vast ocean of bliss
• We try to prove our self-worth by what we get done, which means we always have to do more
• You are here to enrich the world
• Make it a place to play and not a final destination
• Strength and ease
• Remember who you are
• In the end, we’ll all become stories

I began my month trying some physical alignment:  yoga. I did yoga for about a year in my early twenties. Not sure what called me back to it, but the call was strong and persistent. I bought an unlimited pass for two weeks and jumped in. While there was much misalignment on the mat as I faced upside down trying to remember my right from my left, my brain was singular. Quiet and still. Yoga is the one place I cannot think of anything else. I can only do the pose and breath (and usually my breath takes reminding). This quieted brain was what my being had begged for. I bought a year-long membership.

The next opportunity to align arose at work. I suddenly had several calls on my calendar from younger co-workers I didn’t know. These calls were connectional in nature rather than about a project or task. Simply two people getting to know each other. We shared the basics – background, career journey, location, loved ones – and then shifted to personal. What they sought. Lessons I’d learned. Curious questions. Admitted secrets. Bold moves. Emotional decisions. We were not different. We were connected by a life thread – a continuum of humanness. I left these calls refreshed and smiling, reminded that wherever we are on our journey, we are all connected so it’s important to pause and simply be and align with others where the are.

Nature became my next source of alignment. After a 6-month renovation effort on my condo building, I finally got access to my back porch, OK, it’s more of a nook with a fire escape – but it’s outside. I got a small table with two chairs. I worked here in the coolness of the mornings. I read here on sunny weekend afternoons. I called my mom from here as dinner cooked. But the alignment came when I sat here. That’s it. I just sat here. I sat here as light rain fell. I sat here as the sun danced through the leaves of my neighbor’s three-story magnolia tree. I sat here in a steady breeze that rustled the leaves. I sat here and listened to and watched the birds, squirrels, and bunnies. As I sat in a stillness that extended from my bones to the soul, I recalled one of my mother’s favorite Bible verses, Matthew 6:26-27: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you worrying add a single hour to your life?”

This month reminded me that alignment begins within, and it is a muscle that needs to be worked, stretched, and soothed.

I realized that what I needed was less out there and more in here. That taking care of and replenishing me, my being, would enable me to be more of me in the world – and that, that was what I truly sought.

Not alignment to the world, but to align to myself within it.

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For April 2024 the quote was, “The world will unlock hundreds of doors when you give this day all the courage, love, and intensity you can.”

My month ended with mom and I in North Carolina for a family funeral in the area where she and dad both grew up, just north of Charlotte. During our three-day trip we saw countless doors. Just about every Presbyterian church in a 20 mile radius and countless homes of loved ones long gone. I saw them all with new perspective… physically as I was now 5’10” vs. kid size and emotionally, 50 from vs. 15.

Here are quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention during the month, and this trip:

• Your life so far has proven it’s possible
• Maybe we’re not here to solve it; We’re here to evolve it
• Soul work is not a high road; It’s a deep fall into an unforgiving darkness that won’t let you go until you find the song that sings you home
• I realized belonging is not something I just receive – I actively cultivate belonging through the way I see and know others
• Days like today remind me we receive what we practice
• You can’t fake the frequency
• It’s a privilege to grieve – it means you loved someone and they loved you
• If I do but one thing today may I be human sunshine for someone
• Write our story, sing your song, speak truth into the hard parts
• I never worry about the places you invite me
• There is no “we” in chocolate (or bourbon)
• One day you know what you had to do, and began
• Can we sit with it, and keep going anyway?
• Grace always finds you exactly where you are, and does not leave you where it found you

While in North Carolina I saw more than doors. I saw the potential they opened and the legacy they built.

I saw church doors in four communities that welcomed various branches of my family tree which led to a foundation of faith for generations of Oehlers, Goodnights, Reynolds, and Lipes. I saw the door of the church where my parents met at kids which led to a 59-year marriage (and me!). I road by and saw the front door of my grandmother MawMaw’s house which led to three generations of educators (principle; elementary, middle school, and high school teachers; university dean, librarian, Sunday school). I saw the front door of four small “mill houses” given by my great grandfather to each of his kids which led to hundreds of community leaders – business owners, teachers, writers, corporate executives, volunteers, fireman, policeman, pastor, and more. I delighted at the cute, well-kept door at my grandmother Nanny’s old house that led to the comfort of thousands through the pies, casseroles, and visitations made by Nanny and her descendants. Then there was the door to our favorite BBQ restaurant that led to countless family meals and laughs for 40+ years (and us luckily being able to eat their twice and take 3 pounds home!).

For me, these doors were portals that allowed me to time travel to loved ones long gone and previous versions on myself. My mind connecting a thread between them all. Every person. Every thought. Every action. Every emotion. Every hope. Every loss. Every choice. Everything separate. Everything together.

Every door both a fixed point in time and with unlimited possibilities.

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For February 2024 my quote was: “Listen closely to the silence. It’s the sound of everything working out.”  

February was complex. It was the first month after my father’s death. I was on the phone a lot saying, “I’m calling on behalf of my father who died.” His birthday was this month. It was the first month mom did not have her Valentine in 59 years of marriage. It was heart health month and mom is a 5-bypass survivor. Every emotion was present. I worked to compartmentalize them so I could work, address our “to do list,” and play as life goes on – but alas they were there. Lurking. Pouncing. At times immediate and at others, a rising tide or shadow. Throughout the month here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention:

• The joy of living is still available to us
• Rest is a sense of “possibilitivity”
• You have to continue to show up
• Let me keep company always with those who say “look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads
• While we are trying to make sense of things, many we learn to make peace with things
• We share this human experience of love and loss
• You are not your worries
• We cannot shame ourselves into change – we can only love ourselves into evolution
• Grieve peacefully
• See what shimmers amid the darkness, what endures within their dust
• I hope I see you in my dreams tonight; Healthy, happy – and content in your new world
• That will scorch us with its joy
• Be with the mind as it is, and practice anyway
• Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.
• Sometimes, I see the moon in the middle of the day and know I am held by something so much larger than myself
• The sacred work of grieving
• I am
• Sit here while I pray
• The whispers were coming
• To live these moments only you will live, and say thank you that you are the one they were offered to

This month was reflective, prayer-filled, and joyful… and along the way, I realized:

… grief is proportionate to love, and I am grateful for the massive love my father gave me my entire life.

… you cannot comprehend grief until you have it, and those who share their knowledge or simply sit with you in the emotional overload and unknown are superheroes

… life is about community, and I – and my family – have an incredible one with life-long friends, college roommates, church members, volunteer buddies, neighbors, and angels placed on our path for a point in time

… “doing” is a wonderful, needed distraction, and “being” fully present, still, feeling, and reflecting is essential.

… laughter that builds from a giggle to tears is a magic elixir for anything

… grief is not about stopping but rather starting—an opportunity to seek, try, learn, and discover “next”

… pain is crushing alone, especially in the darkness of night, and 1am texts from a beloved night owl lights a path out of the loneliness

… there is no heavier weight to carry than your loved ones’ remains; it’s overpowering

… the mention of death really freaks a lot of people out – you can feel the awkwardness – and yet it is such a connectional experience we will all have

… art offers an emotional haven where the mind is still

… to never underestimate the comfort of a homemade casserole or soup, a strong bourbon, or a scoop of ice cream

… music in an on/off switch for emotions, especially church hymns

… nature knows and we need to visit it regularly

… prayer, ahhh prayer

Finally, I realized that the glimmer in my dad’s eye that so many commented on after his passing; his big smile and quick laugh; and his totally presence with all he encountered were due to his connection to death as a pastor. He knew our life is a God-given gift. A precious one filled with so many amazing people, sites, and experiences. He soaked up, celebrated, and praised them all. And this is what guides my grief and I carry forward.

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For January 2024 my quote was: “Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are.”  

I love the start of something new. The fresh energy at the starting point. The contentment of getting organized and prepared. The hope for what is to come. Anticipation and trepidation swirled together in a delightful cocktail. This January, I got a different perspective. I saw the beauty of the end of something done amazingly well. This January, my father passed away after a decade of Alzheimer’s. Appreciation and loss raged in an emotional Tsunami. Throughout the month here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention:

• We have magic to make
• Sometimes just getting up and carrying on is a brave and meaningful act
• Be exactly where you are and be grateful
• My grief is tremendous but my love is bigger
• Beloved is where we begin
• He can hear your heart
• Never wait to explore joy and open our arms to love
• A perfectly imperfect bundle of curiosity, mayhem, and unintended bliss
• Nourish and comfort
• Misery might love company, but so does joy – and joy throws much better parties
• Release the suck
• It’s time for new
• We’re all just walking each other home
• Be at ease

January’s quote, picked unknowingly in December of what lay ahead, fit more than I could have predicted. As I abruptly stepped away from the tensions of work, community service, and the “shoulda’s,” and became emersed in the end of life of one of the two most influential people in my life. I relaxed into me. My focus no longer split or tied up in comparisons, but simplified into what was needed now, with him, for mom. My stress soared and prayers got longer; however, there was an undercurrent of ease. I faced the target in front of me without concern for image, “best practices,” or tradition. I let others step in to address the fray around me. The rest fell away.

Being fully myself in the moment let me experience it all, the fear and frantic to the tender and tears, and the magic and memories in between. And yes, the joy. The joy of sitting for hours holding his hand. The joy of his apology for being “a little shit” as I cleaned and dressed him. The joy of his rally and return of the sparkle in his eyes, interaction, and laughter. The joy of finding him pajamas with squirrels on them to keep him cozy. The joy of him looking at me directly in the eye after a squabble and declaring with resolution, “damn, you are just like me” – I beamed with pride and chuckled. The joy of the caregiver learning curve I had with mom and big laughs that resulted. The joy of seeing an expert, compassionate hospice team swoop in to care for him and support my mother gracefully. The joy of mom, dad, brother, and me all together in a quite prayer-filled moment the night before he died.

There is tension (maybe the better word is stress, worry, or overwhelm) that remains, but it centers on what to do next, not how to be. For that I will continue to look to my dad for guidance as explained in my eulogy at his funeral:

Over the past year staying at my parent’s house, I constantly replied to mom, “well, you know I am half you and half dad.” For which I’m grateful.

So now I will cry my emotions like mom and hopefully share the words like dad.

I will not tell you about who he was because you all knew. You knew from his words. You knew from his deeds. You knew from his faith-lived life.

Instead, I will share with you my last conversation with him. I awoke at 7am and listened to the baby monitor set up in his room. His breath clear and rhythmic. I did this often. Matching my breath to his to connect when words were not an option. Breathing together, in sync. Dad and Daddy’s Girl.

This time I noticed his cadence was different, quicker. I went to his room and listened more closely. I gave him his medication, and as the sun rose and warmed the sky, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “be at ease.”

I went back to bed to get a little more rest. Twenty minutes later I woke up suddenly, listened to the monitor. Silence. He was gone. At peace.

So, in his honor, I give you this charge and meditation:  Be at ease.

May you be at ease in the life God created for you.

May you be at ease in your career and volunteering – sharing your gifts with your community.

May you be at ease in the relationships that surround you… or be at ease to leave them and find those where you can.

May you be at ease with those who are different… welcoming unique, confronting tradition, celebrating diversity.

May you be at ease with those in crisis… holding their hand, sitting in silence, handing them a hankie.

May you be at ease in a faith that can be hard to follow.

May you be at ease in mourning, knowing that the pain and tears come from love.

May you be at ease to use your voice to protect and advocate for those in fear, in loss, in turmoil, in sickness, in isolation, in discrimination, in loneliness, and in conflict.

May you be at ease to let your light shine… smile with ease, laugh with ease, hug with ease, compliment with ease, encourage with ease.

May you be at ease at the end of a good day with a bowl of ice cream.

May you be at ease to pray, sit, pray, listen, pray, and pray some more.

May you be at ease to savor the beauty of nature and the birds’ song.

May you be at ease knowing that our loved ones are all called home to be with God.

May you be at ease here today in a community of love.

May you be at ease.

May you be at ease.

May you be at ease.

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For December 2023 my quote was actually a word:  Intention.  

Growing up as a preacher’s kid, December was always a big month. There was always a feeling of getting called up from the minor Leagues to play in the “big show.” This was the month when it all came together. Add to that the southern family tradition of all the baked goods, decorations, and visits with extended family. It’s always been a hustle and bustle month filled with moments of seasonal glitter. I love this month for all the special treats it offers, and also try to be clear about what really matters in this holy time laced with sugar, hence my quote being a single focusing word, intention. Throughout December here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention:

• Our worth is not measured by the level of our exhaustion
• I am the human version of tangled Christmas lights
• In your silence you will see and hear what you need to create
• Transformational leadership always begins within
• You are a strong daughter of God with angels with you
• I’m just another version of you
• You are perfectly human, so you are perfectly imperfect
• Between stimulus and response there is a space; In that space is our power to choose our response; In our response lies our growth and freedom
• What havoc have you created today
• A valiant effort is courageous
• Perfect laughed at me, right in the face
• The God of your heart
• A space of clarity to trust yourself
• Divine navigation system
• It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye
• Shine your power
• Make friends with chaos
• I had to come to a place I was meant to be

December brought with it many surprises – some delightful and others gut wrenching. None as I expected. My guiding word for the month made both better. Through intention I did what mattered most and what was most needed. Did my master monthly plan occur as I envisioned? Hell no. What did occur was both good and different, and that was OK. My heart grew with glee and sobbed in sadness, and that was OK. I dazzled on some days and limped through others, and that was OK. I held tight to the essentials and let the fray fall away, and that was OK. My intention kept me in the moment, fully present for it all, and that was more than OK – it was purposeful.

So as a new year starts, I encourage you to find your OK. And to help you on your journey, I share with you my family’s angel. She is dirty with unruly hair and missing a hand. Her wings cock-eyed but sturdy. She is a hard working angel with a big heart.

May you call on her…
– for relief
– for hope
– for comfort
– for inspiration
– for shelter
– for joy
– for kindness
– for community
– for health
– for fortitude
– for stability
– for confidence
– for recovery
– for possibilities
– for clarity
– for friendship
– for connection
– for love
– for faith
– for what lies protected in your heart that you wish to resolve this year.

May she help you find and be OK.

As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For November 2023 my quote was “Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.”  

Fall is my season. The crisp air. The wind gusts. The colorful leaves. They all re-fill my soul. My feet feel more rooted to the ground. I feel more present in my body. I seem to notice more details in the world around me. It’s all more vivid. It feels like a cross between the sensation Superman feels when he gets recharged by the sun after exposure to Kryptonite and the shift in Dorothy when she enters the technicolor world of Oz. As I soaked all this up in November here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught my attention along the way:

• One can only share what she has in plenty
• I’m not afraid, I was born to do this
• Be a voice not a echo
• Life will always find ways for you to thrive
• Her tears were the most healing waters of them all
• Wisdom keepers in the shape of trees
• The sand assures us change is inevitable
• Nature is always present; it is us who are not
• Drop our roots deep to rise high
• Wait in faith for just a moment
• She used her heart as a compass
• It broke me and I asked my soul to lead
• Hope is a practical way of life
• Soul whispers
• Seeing people with generous eyes
• Hold on to the sense of possibility
• Decide to rise
• Soul rest
• Freedom is not a state, it’s an act
• Don’t you want to be alive before you die?
• The impossible just takes a little longer
• Ittibi oksifoshi’ ihoo chohmi! (Fight like a hatchet woman)
• The body tells us what we need
• Grief is love with nowhere to go
• Relationships travel at the speed of vulnerability
• Kaddish (holy; separate from the every day)

As a self-proclaimed communications geek I love words. Words can be so simple and yet make a huge impact. They can inspire, comfort, clarify, hurt, empower, and confuse. Words impact our whole being – head, heart, and body. We feel them and carry them with us. Words matter.

One of my favorite words is wonder, so much so that it was my word this year (some folks set a goal or intention, I pick a word to embrace). I wanted more wonder. More wide-eye child-like experiences. More connection to something beyond my reality. More time to literally wonder, think, and just be. More of what definitions use to describe wonder:  feeling of surprise mingled with admiration; caused by something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar, or inexplicable; something extraordinary.

In my heightened fall state, I realized that my life was indeed saturated in wonder… especially in the “extra-ordinary” moments.

Wonder wedged its way in as I stood and watched the orange sun push away the evening darkness.

Wonder erupted on a call with a group of professional women I chat with monthly through genuine conversations, heart-felt support, and big laughs.

Wonder delivered itself through a thoughtful piece of mail marked “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL THANKSGIVING!”

Wonder chimed in as I got my groove on and danced to a favorite tune as I made lunch in the middle of a hectic work day

Wonder came as I sat in my church’s tiny white chapel in silence before the service and the morning sun poured in on me through the window.

Wonder sparkled as I drove at 6am in the dark to make an appointment and holiday lights lit my way.

Wonder smacked me upside the head when a friend looked me in the eye and asked, “How are you taking care of yourself?”

Wonder got a voice when I chose to donate to a nonprofit that supports Native America women who experience violence at significantly higher rates than other Americans, as part of my annual “thank you” to my work team.

Wonder moved into my morning with a friend as we shared, vented, and laughed walking around the neighborhood.

Wonder appeared when a high school bestie brought her dad, daughter, and granddaughter over at 8:30pm to sing Happy Birthday to my mom and dole out hugs.

Wonder clicked its way in with a text of thanks from a former coworker.

Wonder came together as I finished knitting a baby blanked for a friend’s first child.

Wonder grew as I listened to a Rabbi explain Jewish prayer to a room full of captivated Presbyterians.

Wonder smelled of home when I made my grandmother’s family’s stuffing recipe for Thanksgiving.

Wonder fell as I watched the orange leaves continuously float in the breeze one morning, and dad commented, “look, it’s like orange snow.”

Actually, wonder was always there… I just took the time to notice it and soak it all in.