“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”
~ Meister Eckhart
LENT DAY EIGHT: I am thankful for impromptu kindness.
This article is such a stunning example of impromptu ways that we good humans show love. The more simple an act of love is — the more beautiful it seems to be.
LENT DAY NINE: I am thankful for life’s twists and turns. It’s never easy to deal with the unexpected, the unwanted, or what feels like the unbearable.
It’s hard to walk in faith when we can’t see the next step. But sometimes the twisty parts of life have a miraculous way of turning into something beautiful.
Trust the twist to bring you something better.
LENT DAY TEN: I am thankful for small businesses that give back to the community.
No glossy public relations material, no recognition in the newspapers, no oversized checks or inflated sincerity – small, community-minded businesses remember their roots. They are vested in and genuinely care about the people they serve. Often giving in-kind, from their own products or resources, or by donating their services, they remind us that we belong to one another.
It isn’t about how much they have to give but their willingness to share when they can. It’s not corporate responsibility, it’s just caring.
Picture of Raymond Solomon of Solomon Ventures, whose generosity to different people and organizations — particularly Catholic Charities Jacksonville Camp I Am Special, has been such a gift to this community.
LENT DAY ELEVEN: I am thankful for a heathy body. In my early thirties, a good friend of mine had terminal brain cancer. She was a young mother whose whole life should have been ahead of her. But it wasn’t.
At the time I was an avid runner. I ran for her because she couldn’t. I didn’t always love it. Some runs were hard, hot, and endlessly long. Still, I remembered what a gift these hard runs were – it meant I could feel the thump of my heart, the strength of my legs, and that my breath was ever precious.
It reminded me that I am alive and healthy and not everyone gets that. It gave me pause to stop running and just be grateful.
LENT DAY TWELVE: I am thankful for Bishop Estevez. During a newspaper interview in the quiet of an empty basilica, we talked about Jesus, immigration, and the role of the church and the individual. Everything he said was worth quoting. More so, it was worth living.
I could have sat there forever in the presence of the holiness he exuded. He made me realize how badly I want to sit with Jesus someday, how much peace there would be then, and how the words we say are nothing compared to the conversation of hearts joined in God’s love.
LENT DAY THIRTEEN: I am thankful for mentors. People who have nothing to gain that are willing to help someone who can never repay it are remarkable examples of Jesus’s selflessness. Endless good comes from those who share their time and knowledge. One of the most impactful ways to change the world is to give someone the tools necessary to do it.
LENT DAY FOURTEEN: I am thankful for transformation. A dead tree becomes a work of art. Hurt enables compassion. Defeat is a catalyst for determination. Sinners repent and become Saints. Faith sows the bloom of a divine eternity. Possibilities are endless and no one is without hope.
What are you thankful for today?
gratitude
Lenten Project: Gratitude
I saw a post about giving up social media for Lent. Of course, I get the spirit of this because I am on it too much myself — as a voyeur, not a participant. The truth is I don’t like to post because it makes me feel squirmy and vulnerable and more like a middle-schooler than a middle-ager. So, giving up social media would be easy for me. It would be welcome. It would have kept me comfortable.
Since Lent isn’t about being comfortable, I had this crazy thought. Instead of giving up social media for Lent, maybe I should embrace it. Maybe I should lean into it. Be uncomfortable. Get over it. While contemplating whether that is self-sabotage or a good plan, I received a text from a Jewish friend who told me about a Catholic who plans to send thank you notes to different people for 40 days, and how that makes more sense to him than giving up cookies.
Of course, it makes more sense and is a beautiful gesture. The world always needs more gratitude. I have a dear friend who always says, “What if the only prayer we ever said was thank you. Maybe it would be enough.” (A variation of a quote attributed to the German philosopher, Meister Eckhart).
As part of my Lenten experience, I am posting on social media every day something or someone that I am thankful for. Because I know everyone is not on social media and because I don’t have time to write for both formats during the Lenten season, my weekly posts will be the week’s compilation of gratitude. I hope it inspires your own.
“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”
~ Meister Eckhart
LENT DAY ONE: I am thankful for the inspiration I receive from others in my life. I am grateful for the way that God works in all of us, how he binds and connects us and how the good that is done in the world spreads beyond what we ever see.
LENT DAY TWO: I am thankful for the chance to serve. For a few weeks I have driven around with homeless care packets in my car made by a church circle I am a member of. While I have seen people in need, I was never able to stop to hand out a packet – until yesterday.
It was cold and rainy and as I was passing a historic shopping area notorious for no parking, I saw an empty space and just beyond it– a homeless woman. It wasn’t my intended destination but it was where I was supposed to be. I pulled into the spot, got the bag out of my trunk and handed the pack of toiletries and snacks to the grateful women. Being able to give on such a gloomy day, filled me with a light that shines regardless of the weather. Read more
Mercy at the Bus Stop
I was doing my teenage Uber driving duties and thinking about the advice that encourages parents to talk to children in the car. After all, they are a captive audience, don’t have to make eye contact (because God forbid, we have any of that), and both parent and child are physically restrained –that might not have been among the reasons listed but it does seem worth noting. We were on the return portion of our journey into silence and I was lamenting the misery of it when I looked out the car window and saw a man sitting on a bus stop talking to himself. Our eyes met and for a moment he silenced.
He was smoking a cigarette in the mid-day Florida heat. I checked the temperature on my dash and it read 98 degrees. I considered my relative comfort in the air-conditioned car and the ice cream in my freezer I planned to eat when I arrived home as a consolation from both the heat and the unwelcome hush of angst that tormented my drive. I recalled the smoking man in the intolerable heat, sitting in solace, speaking to himself. I thought of that moment our eyes met, and how for the first time that day I felt seen. It mattered not to me what I was seen as or how I might have looked or what he might have thought of me. The moment reminded me of the universality of God’s mercy at a time when I felt somewhat desperate for connection. I don’t know what he saw when he looked at me, but through him, I saw a reminder that suffering is not the only thing that is universal, God’s mercy is too.
While I consider my circumstances are likely better than his – the reality was at that moment, I felt as miserable as I perceived him to be. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others. We have standardized what we consider justifiable levels of loneliness, pain, emptiness, and grief, and if it doesn’t fall on the spectrum of horror or woe that we heard on the latest podcast then we feel like we need to buck up and go write in our gratitude journals. Before I understood the mercy of God, I would have thought the same thing. There were so many times that the pain and challenges in my life became a wedge in my relationship with God because I didn’t think I had the right to seek his mercy. I didn’t bring God what appeared to be trivial and trite by the world’s definition of suffering because it felt too small and I had been given too much. The problem with that thinking is that it separates us from God and from the mercy that heals, comforts, and forgives the wounds in our heart. We may not be worthy of God’s mercy or deserve it. Regardless, it pours out of him – a gift of unfathomable consolation that we choose whether to accept.
Out of the Ash: American Heroes
I remember exactly where I was when a plane crashed into the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. It was a profoundly sad day. It changed lives and an entire nation. I will never forget the unthinkable, unimaginable horror as I huddled around the television watching the ash of innocence unite a country in anguished grief. As the morning went on, the plane crashes went from one to four, each one an almost unrecoverable blow of terror, multiplying devastation into exponential heartache.
A new commitment to patriotism rose like a phoenix out of ashes on that pivotal day. We were less naïve and more united. A surge of civilians stepped out of their air-conditioned offices and into the desert heat to join our military. They traded the comforts of civilian life for the trials of war to ensure freedom.
I don’t doubt the urgency of the call to serve that those newly converted soldiers felt. I was almost eight months pregnant with my first child on 9/11. Things that mattered to me before that day—the décor of the nursery, the name I would choose, decisions about going to work afterward, and finding a pediatrician—were suddenly inconsequential. Somehow, life as we knew it was in jeopardy. My body was full of the promise of life, and the sky was falling. Read more
Encouragement: the Secret Worth Sharing
I have a secret file that I keep on my computer. I know that makes me sound a bit like a CIA operative working on top secret missions. (I cannot confirm or deny this). Admittedly, I have a pretty good cover. A married mother of two who writes about Jesus, hangs out with cats, and moonlights for the government while wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt. You can’t make this stuff up. Or, can you?
Anyway, back to reality. I have this file that I keep on my computer labeled “encouragement.” I know you thought it was going to say “delusions of a Christian writer,” but it doesn’t. It simply reads encouragement. If you were to open it, you would find emails I saved from people who took the time to tell me how my writing touched them. I am not sure what compelled me to start it. (Maybe because I was consumed with self-doubt, terrified that the vulnerabilities I shared would humiliate myself and my family, and perhaps, worse of all, that I was leaving a paper trail of evidence supporting an extended stay in a mental health facility. You know, just your small, everyday concerns). When I would get an email of appreciation or encouragement, it made me feel less alone, braver, and best of all, that I was making a difference. I cherish them. Each kindness feels like a gift from God, encouragement made holy through the sacred gift of love in which it was made. Deleting them felt akin to throwing a fresh bouquet of flowers in the trash. I couldn’t do it. So, I started my secret file, a hoarder of happy words. Read more
Birthday Lessons for Everyday Life
I just celebrated another birthday. Besides wilting skin, the imaginary birthday girl tiara on my head, and the presents I intend to buy myself, I think of the song Birthday by the Beatles on my 365th day of orbit around the sun. Anthony Michael Hall sings it to Molly Ringwald in the film, Sixteen Candles. “They say it’s your birthday, well it’s my birthday too, yeah!”
Whether it’s your birthday too, or just another day when age sixteen feels really far away, there are a lot of lessons birthdays teach.
This is what I learned from mine:
Birthday lists are important: Every year my husband pesters me to tell him what I want for my birthday, and every year I can’t think of one single thing to get. Yet, there are many things I want. I just talk myself out of them because I don’t want to clean puppy pee off the floor. Birthdays give us a chance to consider what we want. For many of us, that feels uncomfortable. Still, it’s important to know what you want in life, because it’s short, and precious, and as far as we know, we only get one shot at it. What do you want?
Gifts are great: Who doesn’t like opening presents?! It’s so fun to size up the box, give it a little shake, and then rip the pretty paper off that is suffocating the thoughtful gift inside. I haven’t always thought of my life as a gift. I have taken it for granted, given away too many days to sour thoughts and staid reflections. But, birthdays remind me to give gratitude to the ultimate gift-giver. I always try to offer thanksgiving to God, but on my birthday, I am especially humbled by his goodness. I see the gift of each day: the sorrows, joys, trials, and the spaces in between. All of it, a gift. All of it inspires me to try to be a gift to others. Read more
Parenting: Instructing Mama
The work of mercy that most embodies parenting is to instruct the uninformed. Only it took me a while to figure out that maybe it was me, the mama, who needed the most instruction.
From the earliest days of motherhood, when I frantically thumbed through pages of parenting books in the dark of the night in a desperate attempt to find a way to coax my son to sleep, I felt more clueless than confident.
No matter how many books I read, I could never get my son on a nursing schedule, sleep schedule, or a mama-really-needs-a-shower schedule. I had friends who were more successful with following the instructions, and, of course, I resented their efficiency and ease.
Rest: Summer’s Resolution
I like the month of June because I finally have time to think about new year’s resolutions. I can’t deal with them at the end of December when I am recovering from the Christmas frenzy. The months that follow feel like I am running just ahead of falling dominos. But now that summer is officially here, my year sprawls out in front of me like a beach towel on the sand. (Okay, half a beach towel.)
I am feeling so optimistic, I bought a new calendar. It was no easy feat, since apparently most stores quit selling them by the time Cupid starts shooting arrows through month-old resolutions to get its candy on the shelves.
I’m every-woman, please don’t tell Oprah
I am trying to be a list person. Typically, my lists get left behind on the kitchen counter, or if they are more goal-oriented, require me to breathe into a paper bag. Instead, I am a do-one-hard-thing-a-day-and-act-peppy-about-it kind of girl. Read more
Mothers: Strong as they are soft
I keep seeing ads for Mother’s Day with petal pink letters in frilly font and slight women wearing flowing flowering frocks. It’s like advertisers think mothers dress in doilies, cover their heads in bonnets with perfectly tied grosgrain ribbon, and smile demurely all day wearing pink champagne tinted lip gloss.
I guess I should be glad they think that. Maybe they don’t notice that my flowing hair is tied back in a rubber band because I haven’t washed it, the dew on my skin isn’t from sprinkles of rose water but the sheen of oil on my face that I didn’t have time to powder, and my tinted lips are from biting them in an effort to avoid saying something regrettable. Read more