Saint Nicholas of Myra, a story of service and generosity

“The giver of every good and perfect gift has called upon us to mimic His giving, by grace, through faith, and this is not of ourselves.”–St. Nicholas of Myra

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Heart-warming Stories . . . 📖

I have always appreciated heart-warming stories–you know the type.  The wronged protagonist, our underdog hero, faces one insurmountable challenge after another.  Just when you think the bad guys are truly going to get him or her, the protagonist finds a way to persevere, inspiring mere-mortals that we too can be like the protagonist.  

Those comforting stories are like cotton-candy, light, sweet, and sticky. Instead of needing to clean your hands, it’s the story that sticks around in your mind, inspiring you to perhaps make a change in your own life.  That sums up the legend of Saint Nicholas of Myra.

My interest in the story of Saint Nicholas was piqued when our school pastor, Rev. Monsignor Dean G. Borgmeyer, spoke of the upcoming Feast of Saint Nicholas at a school church service.  I wanted to learn a bit more about him and conducted a brief search. From Britannica to Farmer’s Almanac and from the Cincinnati Enquirer to National Today and a few others, my gleanings yielded a variety of lore associated with St. Nicholas.

By the time this is published, the Feast of Saint Nicholas will have already occurred in Western Christian countries on December 6, including the United States; however, it won’t occur in the Eastern Christian countries until December 19. Nonetheless, his legend, and all the variations of it, is a heartening story.  In fact, it inspired many of our current traditions and notions centered around the present-day conception of Santa Claus.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

. . . Get Into your Head . . . 🧐

Some sources say that Nicholas was born to wealthy parents in the 3rd or 4th century in the Lycian seaport village of Patra, Turkey. It is believed that he traveled to Egypt and Palestine during his youth.  Tragically, however, according to one account, his parents died when he was quite young due to an epidemic sweeping the area.  This same report added that because he was raised Christian, Nicholas ultimately sold his belongings, dedicated his life to one of service, and then used his inheritance to help others.  At some point during his years of service to the church, he returned to Lycia, and there, he was made Bishop of Myra, one of the youngest men to be named bishop. 

Most sources emphasize his dedication to helping children in particular.  In fact, the one most often repeated stories are variations of how he helped a poor father keep his three daughters from a life of poverty, slavery, or prostitution by providing each of them with a dowry.  One account stated that stockings filled with gold coins were lobbed through a window of the family’s home and landed in shoes near the hearth.  Another account simply stated that gold coins were mysteriously found in their shoes.  In a similar fashion, unrelated to the three daughters, it is also claimed that children would find gold coins in their stockings that were left outside to dry after washing, and it was a widely held belief that this was the work of Bishop Nicholas.  

All sources agree that Nicholas was imprisoned for his good works and probably tortured during the Roman persecutions of Christians. Most likely he was released during the reign of Constantine the Great and continued his life devoted to helping those in need.  He was supposedly declared a saint on the same day he died at an estimated age of 73.

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

. . . Melt your heart . . . ♥️

His reputation for kindness and generosity grew because it is believed most of his gifts to others were given anonymously, and as a result, there are many wildly, unbelievable legends and miracles associated with Saint Nicholas. One such miracle was of a crazed butcher who chopped up three young kids and hid them in brine.  Supposedly, Nicholas was able to fully restore the lives of all three children and return them whole and healthy to their parents. Another story tells of a kidnapped son being returned to his family one year later, guided by Bishop Nicholas, years after his death. 

However, for me the greatest takeaway of the story of Saint Nicholas is the idea of practicing generosity and kindness to others, not just through the holiday season, but throughout the year–especially in an anonymous or low-key manner as part of a regular practice. In fact, during the recent funeral of Rosalynn Carter, her pastor talked about the fact that she understood the message of living a life of faith and service intellectually in her head.  That intellectual seed of understanding became planted in her heart, and the desire to share and love others grew from that planted seed of faith.  From her heart, a passion for generosity and service moved to her hands via actions.  Over time, these acts of service and kindness became a regular practice, thus creating a habit.  Head. Heart. Hands. Habit.

The story of St. Nicholas is quite similar, and you don’t have to believe all parts of his legend to get the message.  The protagonist understood at a young age the importance of faith and serving others.  Due to this belief, he soon learned to embrace and embody the idea of service into actions.  Then, the act of kindness and generosity became so ingrained in him that service, kindness, and generosity became the habit of his life–even if it meant facing persecution for it.  Head. Heart. Hands. Habit.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

. . .And move your hands to action 🤝

As 2023 winds down with the holiday season, it is so easy to get wrapped up (honestly, no pun intended, but it does fit) in commercial, marketing hype, which can lead to stress, over-obligating, and overspending–which creates even more stress and anxiety which is self-focused. While I am not saying you should not participate and enjoy the holiday season, rather I encourage all of us to also take time to reflect on our own head, heart, hands, and habits of 2023.  

How can we more often incorporate acts of service? Can we find ways to practice generosity and kindness regularly and/or anonymously? Can we carry that spirit of Saint Nicholas beyond the holiday season and look for ways to continue in 2024.  If we can intellectually convince ourselves of the value of service to others, however small, then maybe our hearts would soften and open to the idea. From that softened heart, we might find the audacity to commit our hands in 2024 to some form of humble service–not because we want others to know, or we want a tax-write off, but because it is simply the right thing to do. Could it, would it, become a habit?  What would happen if there were more people like Mrs. Carter or like the legendary St. Nicholas?   

The gift of single-mindedness–we tap into the present moment

“This very moment is the perfect teacher, and, lucky for us, it’s with us wherever we are.”–Pema Chödrön

REsistance is Futile🤯

I heard the thud and subsequent scattering of parts.  Then, I heard John, my husband, enunciate a few choice words.  Since I wasn’t in the same room of the house, I wasn’t sure what had happened.  Soon enough, John walked into the kitchen-dining room area and set an open socket and driver kit on the table.  Pieces of varying sizes were scattered around the kit like a collage of autumn leaves covering a walkway.

As a few more select words were uttered, John went to work. Watching him work reminded me of those long ago hidden picture pages in Highlights magazine that would entertain me as a young child anytime I visited the pediatrician’s office.  John focused intently as he matched pieces to their corresponding recessed area for storage.  Observing his level of attentiveness to the task at hand, I was struck by the fact he was exemplifying the power of single-minded focus.

Single-minded attention is not myopic 🔎

Bringing single-minded attention to a task is different than being so myopic on one thing, you fail to see the bigger picture of life.  Rather, single-mindedness is the ability to prioritize tasks, and then focusing solely on the most important task before moving on to the next.  This level of concentration requires the self-discipline to remove distractions and remain present with the task at hand.  By removing distractions and avoiding the temptation to multitask, the brain can more easily slip into a flow-state of productivity and/or presence. 

Sure enough, I noticed that in the beginning, when John was resisting the moment, as we have all done, by giving into anger and frustration–as evidenced by the colorful language–he was unable to correctly match the parts to their corresponding depressions.  However, as he let go of the resistance, surrendered to the task at hand, he began to more easily match each part to its recess.  A few moments later, John was into a flow-type state, with each successive match, the quicker the next match came.  Soon enough, albeit probably not soon enough for John, the kit was fully assembled, all parts righted into their nesting spot.

Photo by William Fortunato on Pexels.com

There’s nothing wrong with Mutli-tasking, but . . . 🎧

Many of us multi-task, and our busy, fast-paced world tends to promote multitasking as a regular practice. Obviously, there are merits to multitasking to “kill two birds with one stone” as the old expression goes.  However, there are limits to our focus.  When we are engaged with several tasks at once, no one task gets our full attention.  This is fine in the case of listening to a podcast or book while doing something else where the stakes are low–after all you don’t need to focus on every detail of the book or podcast to glean the overall message/meaning. Thus, nothing is majorly lost if we are not fully focused, and if it is, that’s what the rewind button is for.

In life, however, we don’t always get a rewind button.  Therefore, there are times when it is important to only focus on one thing at a time.  Most of us understand this.  For example, you most likely wouldn’t take a phone call during an important meeting at work or complete work tasks while attending an important doctor’s visit. (Well, maybe in the waiting room, but definitely not when the doctor or staff is in the room with you!)  Likewise, you would be offended and feel short-changed if you encountered either of these scenarios during an important work meeting or an urgent doctor’s appointment.  Nonetheless, how many other moments do we short-change by multitasking?

Photo by Andres Ayrton on Pexels.com

Single-mindedness can be applied to any moment in life 🍏

Any moment in life can be met with single-minded attention, and I do believe there is value in also practicing it.  Eating an apple, going for a walk, talking with a spouse, child, or loved one, even washing dishes after an evening meal can be completed with single-mindedness.  When we take time to solely and fully focus on one event, we are taking time to honor its importance in our lives.  For example, when eating a green apple, as we take a bite, we notice the crunch of the apple, the juice that seeps from the tender fruit with each successive bite, the sweet and tart taste on our tongue as our own mouth begins to dance with saliva.  As we fully taste the apple we can appreciate the nuance of flavors and texture experiencing pleasure, and perhaps, gratitude.

During the act of single-mindedly washing dishes, we are more readily able to take in the scent of the detergent bubbles filling our sink.  We notice the blue and red hues that skim the surface of each bubble.  Our hands warm and turn pink as we immerse them repeatedly in the silky water of soap.  Each dirty dish frees itself from the remains of the meal under the guidance of our hands, and it is rinsed shiny clean under a stream of water from our faucet.  As your mind enters into the flow of washing dishes, there might even be a moment when it occurs to you how fortunate you are to have running water and the opportunity to own enough dishes for everyone in your family.

Obviously, not every moment can be that idyllic, but I do think that practicing single-mindedness can offer numerous benefits.  When it comes to work productivity, focusing on one task well before moving onto the next, increases both productivity and accuracy.  For those in creative fields, single-mindedness can guide the brain into a desired flow-state where ideas begin to stream with ease.  Additionally, when applied to a conversation, single-mindedness not only conveys importance and value of the other person, but it also allows both parties to hear and be heard. 

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

sprinkle it throughout your life like spice to enhance specific moments 🧂

Our time and energy for each day is limited. Thus, there will always be a time and a place for multitasking.  However, it is also important to recognize the preciousness of life. Therefore, it is a worthwhile endeavor to consider and prioritize certain tasks and events for which we will single-mindedly focus our attention. 

When we take time to give something or someone our full attention, we are also giving it our full appreciation. Giving an event our full appreciation leaves us open to feelings of gratitude. Our ability to perceive and appreciate details increases, and the event becomes more sacred as corny as that sounds. 

Practicing single-mindedness is not an all or nothing attitude.  It is a practice we can apply to specific moments in our daily lives.  The more we practice it, the more it is possible to feel the richness of our lives.  We have been endowed with special attributes, talents, and blessings, and it is only for a length of our short life on earth. Why not occasionally and single-mindedly take time to fully immerse ourselves in those gifts?

Five lessons that a post-surgery completion of a half-marathon taught me

. . . For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed . . . nothing will be impossible for you.”–Matthew 17:20 (NRSVCE) 

Apple seed hopes 🍏

Back in April, my daughter, Maddie was having fun with the camera as we waited in a pre-operation room.

Recently, apples have been in season, and as I cut them up and deseed them, I can’t help but take notice of those small seeds–seeds full of possibility and hope.  And, while the seeds from those apples will no longer yield trees and fruit, the apple itself fuels my body as well as a hopeful attitude.

In fact, by the time you read this, Dear Reader, I can say with feelings of great joy that I completed the Marshall University Half-Marathon.  Albeit, that finish line was not quickly crossed, but because of seeds of hope, faith, and belief, it was nonetheless completed.  Besides, 13.1 miles is still the same distance, no matter the speed it takes to get there.

Walking into the pre-race packet pick-up, I was filled with hope.

For the record, I didn’t tell many people about my seed of hope outside of my husband and daughter because it was my own private manifestation of recovery.  In April, it seemed highly improbable.  However, as the months passed and my stamina improved, that seed of hope grew into a seedling and sprouted leaves of possibility.  

Fostering such a dream has taught me a thing, or five, as the case may be, and because running is really a metaphor for life, I thought I’d share those lessons with you.

Five Life Lessons from running 🏃‍♀️

The runners are off and running . . .

Lesson 1: Small beginnings can engender bigger accomplishments.  At the beginning of April, immediately following spinal surgery on my neck, I was told to walk every hour as part of my recovery.  Even “trips around the dining room table” added up, the nurses told me.  The first few days were not easy, but I followed their advice, walking every waking hour, 5-10 minutes.  Eventually, I worked up to 15, 20, and 30 minutes, a few times per day.  Even then, I was dreaming of one day recovering enough to complete another half-marathon, but I didn’t know if it would ever be possible.  Nonetheless, I tucked the dream into the pocket of my heart.

Lesson 2: Savor the good moments, but don’t let the not-so-great ones trip you up.

During recovery there were some pretty rough days.  I tried not to let on, or even name them, lest I give them power over me.  Instead, I kept thinking of Dory, in Finding Nemo, who taught all of us to “just keep swimming.”  And, that is what I did.  I kept swimming, even on the days it felt I was going against the current.  When Dr. Saulle and his staff gave me the green light to slowly, but gradually, add in bouts of running to my walking, I was cautiously optimistic.  Nevertheless, since I had not been running for over three months, it was painfully slow going, but I held fast to the dream tucked into the pocket of my heart.

Run your own race; set your own pace.

Lesson 3: Race your own race; set your own pace. Throughout the late summer, early fall months, I kept plodding-on, alternating bouts of walking with running.  Gradually, the time spent running increased while the time spent walking decreased.  Nonetheless, some days I just didn’t have it in me to run, so I just kept walking. 

By mid-October, only a few weeks before the actual event, I registered for the MU Half-marathon with my fingers crossed.  I continued my own plan of walking and running.  In fact, on the morning of the event, as my husband, John, and I crossed the bridge into town, a strategy came to mind: “Run your own race, Steph, and set your own pace.”  While I did plan to run with a pacing group, I also decided to listen to my body and not force anything once I hit the streets running as I held fast to the dream tucked into the pocket of my heart.

THE BEST SUPPORT TEAM EVER!

Lesson 4:  Allow yourself to be supported. Our daughter, Maddie, met John and me at MU stadium.  They offered to be my team of support early on.  John carried my special hydration mix–my stomach is super sensitive–and Maddie took charge of keeping up with where I was on the course, and ultimately ran mile nine and mile 13 with me.  

Additionally, I ran with pacers Chad Fischer and Aubrey Netzel (names from MU Marathon site) for the first three miles, but I found that I kept moving slightly ahead of them.  Therefore, I decided to take a leap of faith and continue to run on my own at a slightly faster pace. For several miles, I ran with a woman named Angie who was running the full marathon, but eventually, we separated. Therefore, I soaked up all the good energy surrounding the runners, allowing me to always feel supported as I held fast to the dream tucked into the pocket of my heart.  

Feeling grateful for the love and support! 💜

Lesson 5:  Feel and share your gratitude.  Throughout these past months, whenever I felt down or frustrated, I reminded myself to feel grateful.  This was especially true when running the actual event. There were scores of volunteers along the route, and I tried to verbally thank each one I encountered, although I am sure I missed some.  Many of those volunteers would cheer and clap for the runners, even though they had other jobs to do as well. There was an impressive police presence, keeping the runners safe. Plus, there were numerous organizations and clubs providing drink stations along the course.  Additionally, there were some really fun signs to read, such as, “You’re running better than our government,” and “Run like someone just called you a jogger.”  

By the last mile, running side-by-side with Maddie, my heart overflowed with gratitude. In April, I was walking 5-10 minutes at a time. Seven months and two days after the surgery, I ran a half-marathon with only one walk break.  There are so many people for whom I feel grateful who made my recovery and ultimately the half-marathon possible–family, friends, and co-workers. Most of all, I am eternally grateful for John and Maddie who never once doubted the dream tucked in the pocket of my heart.  

Nurturing seeds of hope pays off.

In the end, Dear Reader, if we plant seeds of hope, regularly water them with faith in our True Source, put in the effort and work, and, of course, “just keep swimming” with strokes of belief–even on the hardest of days, we can set our own pace for running our own race, however we define it, and watch as our those seeds of hope blossom into possibilities.

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”–2 Timothy 4:7-8 (NIV)

Run your race, whatever it may be, your way!

Surrender to the challenge and be liberated

“I’m noticing the difference between surrender and resignation.  One is a true letting go, the other is believing I am powerless.”–Andrea Scher

Balancing Act ⚖️

Like numerous other professions, my job in education brings with it unique challenges each year. It is not just the day-to-day, week-to-week dilemmas, but it’s the balancing act between the demands of work and the demands of life.  Additionally, like many jobs, the demands of work cannot be met within the confines of the scheduled work day.  While the work day may officially end at 3:30, there is no way to complete all the work within those hours. 

Thus, there is that predicament daily, and on weekends, of how to accommodate it all. Work and personal life demands are a jigsaw puzzle in which the pieces don’t always fit together.  If I put a piece into the frame of work, then it seems to take away from the frame of personal life.  Inside my head there is an image of how it should all blend seamlessly into one harmonious picture, but the reality is often an abstract palette of discordant images.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Solving the Puzzle of Time 🧩

How often do we feel the weight of: how to put the pieces together today?  One of the keys, I’ve discovered, to balancing work and life is to take it one day at a time. To be sure, that sounds cliché.  However, by focusing solely on one day, as part of the whole of the equation, it can often allow me to discern what must be done vs what needs to eventually be done.  Then it is a matter of focusing on one unfolding moment at a time.  If we can choose to surrender to the fact that we are facing challenges that cannot all be completed in one day, we can begin to let go of the attachment to “how it should be” and the picture-perfect image of “what it should look like.” 

  Attaching to that ideal image of “this is when and how it will be” is often the source of suffering and stress.  It is only human nature–especially in the current social media world in which we live–to visualize how “perfect” it will look/feel when we complete X, Y, and Z.  However, most of the time, at least in my experience, life tosses in some sort of unpredicted bollix, and suddenly that flawless finish is unattainable–as if it was ever possible to begin with! 

Photo by Elina Fairytale on Pexels.com

The Strength of Surrender 💪

I have found that the notion of “surrender”is often associated with giving up, giving in, or acquiescing to a lower standard, but that is just our ego talking.  Furthermore, surrender is not a resignation either, which can sometimes lead to feelings of bitterness, anger, and resentment because you can’t “have it all” as popular culture and social media would have us believe. Instead, surrendering to the fact that you “can’t do it all” actually takes strength.

Nonetheless, choosing to ignore the mind’s ego can feel vulnerable and scary. It takes a real act of courage to surrender, and let go of our attachments. But, once we decide to release the ego’s messaging, we begin to allow ourselves to be led inwardly by a higher power, our True Source.

The water of this creek winds and bends over its rocky bed demonstrating the difference between ease and easy.

Ease into the challenges one by one 😌

Surrendering lightens our load and allows our day to flow with more ease and much less tension. That is not to say our day will suddenly become easy, there will still be challenges, but we can feel free from the binds of stress that come with ego-driven motivation. When we let go of the ego’s attachments, we are recognizing our true personal worth–we so much more than what we do.  

Ignoring our ego is an act of love and faith, not only in our abilities, but it is also a willingness to recognize that all those perfect images are just that–images, not the reality that social media often leads us to believe. Letting go of that attachment is an act of faith and a willingness to believe that we will be inwardly led by our intuition in harmony with our higher power.  

Surrendering gives us permission to let go of all those perfect images our ego attaches to.  We can begin to recognize that we are safe, despite the ego’s messaging that can falsely have us believing that, if we don’t achieve said-thing by said-time, we are failing.  Instead, surrendering says, we are trusting the way will be provided; and therefore, we can and will choose wisely.  Surrendering allows us the freedom to walk the path of life’s pavestone moments, step-by-step, stone-by-stone, knowing that when the time is right, all will come together as it should.

There are times of the year when even the trees quietly and gently let go of their colorful adornment, demonstrating the art of detaching from ego.

The ARt of Detaching 🍂

It’s about letting go of control. (We never had it to begin with anyway.)  It’s as simple as breathing.  Inhale. Exhale.  One moment at a time.  One step at a time.  One priority at a time. Trusting that just as each breath provides us with life, our path will ultimately be paved in its due time

The power of surrender is not weak as our ego leads us to believe.  Instead, it liberates us to stand in our strength by expelling all the tension, fear, anxiety, stress, and suffering attached to the ego’s. “This is how and when it should be.” It is the difference between closed fists trying to muscle their way through a situation, versus relaxed hands, flexibly handing each moment as it comes.

The energy of surrendering is only a breath away. Inhale energy for life’s next moment. Exhale, and release the tension attached to how it should be.  Surrendering to the moment can really be that easy. It is our ego that makes it so hard.  Inhale. Exhale. Surrender to your inner-knowing. The Breath of Life will provide.  

Always wanting more? Try looking inward instead

Photo by Jensen R on Pexels.com

“Things are just that–things.  They don’t make us who we are.  They make us look better on the outside, even when we’re hollow on the inside.  They’re an illusion–the shiny objects that distract us from the really important things.”–Chelle Bliss 

Trapped in the Wax 🕯️

  The day had been cool and cloudy, and I had come home with a bit of fresh produce, including a variety of fruit.  Given the weather, I thought it seemed like the perfect time to light the fragrant candle, a gift from a student.  I did not think about the fact that fresh fruit, during certain times of the year, is often accompanied by tiny little flying insects.

There they were, though, tiny bugs trapped in the melted wax because they had been drawn to the light of the candle.  Their attraction to shiny things had caused their demise in the end.  I wonder what they sensed the candle light could offer them–if they felt the candle’s sparkling flame would somehow improve their lives.  

Did those bugs confuse the candlelight with sunlight or moonlight?  Did they think it would help them navigate through the otherwise overcast day?  Perhaps, those pests confused the candlelight with bright flowers that nourish insects with nectar?  Were they trying to escape some unseen predator and sense that the bright light would blind their predator from seeing them.  Then again, maybe they were the predators looking for a meal, or were they looking for a suitable mate?  

They were so attracted to the flames, they lost their way and became stuck in the melted wax.

Attracted to the Brilliance ✨

Even science doesn’t seem to know the exact reasons bugs are drawn to light, and it made me wonder why humans, likewise, are drawn to shiny things?  Big vehicles, the bigger and shinier the better.  Large homes filled with sparkling appliances, a multitude of large screens, and a variety of other collections, depending upon a person’s interests and means. Closets gorged on a feast of clothes and shoes. Not to mention the cultural attitude about prosperity: those with means have been “blessed.” (I’m not sure what that means for the rest of us.) 

Then there is the shininess of beauty, youth, and attractiveness, especially since our culture tends to place more value on the looks of youth over the experience and wisdom that comes with aging. Cosmetic injections, surgeries, and implants to change looks and/or stave off aging, no matter your gender.  Your face should be blemish-free–no saggy eyes, no droopy chin, and while a few laugh lines are acceptable on men, wrinkles are not so appealing on women. 

Photo by Jack Sparrow on Pexels.com

Window shopping 🛍️

We are attracted to the nectar of status, wealth, and beauty, and yet we are often as trapped as those insects, feeling as if what we have of it is not enough.  This drives us into a perpetual cycle of needing more things, needing more investments, needing more dressings to make us look shiny to others. We are window shopping the lives of others to see if our own shop window is as appealing and competitive-looking as our peers.

Do we, like insects, confuse the brilliance of status and/or youthful beauty with the light of inner peace that can help shine a path through life?  Do we sense that when times get overcast, the more things we have, the better able we will be to find our way through dark times?  Could our obsession with window dressings come from our own insatiable, ego-driven hunger?  Perhaps, we have an unspoken belief that we can protect ourselves from bad things happening to us if we attain a certain income status.  Then again, maybe these objects make us feel/seem more attractive to others, in the hope of luring some attention.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Is it enough? 🤔

While I recognize that the words I write sound hyper-critical, please know that I am asking these same questions of myself.  Should I do more to “improve” my looks? Is my career enough at this point in my life? Afterall, I am choosing to remain an educator, rather than administrator, because I still find intrinsic value in what I do, even though it doesn’t have the same monetary value? 

My husband and I have a home, and it may not be the best.  But, it is dry, safe, and warm.  We have food on the table, and we certainly have clothes–albeit not necessarily the most up-to-date styles. At the end of my life, I often remind myself, I can’t take any of it with me.  Nonetheless, I also know I must save for those end-of-life years, for which I hope/think we are doing enough, but is it?  

Why do I sometimes feel I am not doing enough? Why do I feel like I should do more? Am I trapped in the wax of envy?  Am I trapped in the wax of our cultural beliefs of worth and value? Am I the only one with these questions/feelings? I don’t think so.

Photo by Arthur Brognoli on Pexels.com

Self-Reflection 🙏

I’ve concluded that it is only through self-reflection, contemplation, and meditative prayer that the answers are found.  What is right for me, may not be right for others.  By examining our attachments, we can begin to ask ourselves what things/what part of our lives are bringing us true fulfillment, and which are merely fueling our ego?  When we look deeply, we see that many, if not most of our things, paint an illusion of happiness for us.  

Much of what we have externally is impermanent.  Even our relationships, as much as we value them–have a limited time.  Therefore, through introspection, we can perhaps see the importance of living more fully in the present moment, completing our responsibilities without attaching to specific outcomes (because we really aren’t in as much control as we think we are) and surrendering the outcomes of our efforts to a higher power. 

By shifting our focus more frequently to our internal world, we can begin to detach more from our external trappings. Then, we can learn to dampen the sounds of our ego’s attachments to societal values, and discover richness and fulfillment that comes from fostering our own spiritual growth and the expanding sense of peace that comes with it. The more we shift to an internal focus, the less trapped we feel, and the more we can enjoy and appreciate this gift of living. 

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

Loneliness is a major health problem, and we can be part of the cure

“Be somebody who makes everyone feel like somebody.”–unknown

Photo by Bob Price on Pexels.com

The Write Stuff ✏️

It was supposed to be a creative writing piece.  A visual writing prompt given for the sole purpose of working with new vocabulary words.  On the white board, I projected a picture of a fully clothed person, leaning against the wall of what appeared to be a school, but the physical person was invisible.  The clothes the person was wearing were gender neutral.  I assigned no gender, race, religion, etc. to this person.  My directions were for the freshmen students to use their current vocabulary words to write this person’s story.  

Most of the time, when I assign such a piece, only a handful of students really get jazzed about the chosen topic/challenge of the week.  I am a realistic teacher and writer, so I get it. Not every topic can be inspiring.  

However, this past week was different.  Nearly every student was engaged, focused, and wanted more time to write.  This was unusual since I did not assign a required length to this writing assignment.  Rather, I required the correct use of all of the vocabulary words and that students fully write to the prompt. 

This picture of a student, Madeline Garcia, was taken with permission to demonstrate students’ feeling of loneliness. While she was not one who wrote that she felt invisible, she was happy to help out with the photo illustration.

Invisible Ink ✒️

Given the nature of my job and the number of students/grade levels I teach, it took me a couple of days before I read those creative writing responses. What surprised me the most was the repeated theme of feeling “invisible” to others.  Depending upon the student’s situation/perception, this included friends, social groups, family, and other important adults in their life such as teachers, pastors, and coaches. It was clear to me that social isolation and loneliness is a very real phenomena amongst an age group known for their social connectivity. 

To be sure, there were those students who wrote fantastical, fictional stories, and there were those who did the bare minimum with little creativity in order to complete the task.  However, a large number of students wrote heart-wrenching stories of feeling overlooked, disregarded, or ignored by people they consider to be important in their lives.  Many students spoke of possessing good qualities that went unnoticed or unappreciated by others.  They described the utter loneliness they felt inside, even when surrounded by others.

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

Public Health Warning ⚠️

I was reminded of a couple of podcasts interviews I have listened to with the current U.S. Surgeon General, Vivek Murthy, in which he discussed an advisory he released this past spring (2023) proclaiming loneliness and social isolation a public health epidemic in the United States.  According to his findings, as seen in a release from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, loneliness is as bad as smoking on our health.  When we experience long-term loneliness and social isolation, it can put us at risk for heart disease, stroke, and dementia. 

However, for teens, this feeling of extreme loneliness, according to Murthy, predates COVID, despite all of the social media connections.  Murthy warns that loneliness and social isolation negatively affects the mental health of all who experience it, but he states that it is especially troubling for teens. In fact, Murthy went on to issue another advisory this past June (2023) regarding youth and their use of social media, warning that extreme exposure, defined as more than three hours per day, is a major contributor to the uptick of teen anxiety and depression.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

Face-to-face, heart-to-heart💖

Reflecting on my own student’s writing, it is clear, at least anecdotally, that loneliness is a very real feeling among teens. Of course, I do not want to totally dismiss the use of social media among teens as I know there are numerous benefits that can be found. However, it was interesting to note that when talking with all of my students, at all three grade levels (7, 8, 9), most stated they would rather spend time in person with their friends than text or connect with them via a social media platform.  Of course, there were a few outliers, but by and large, most spoke of the fact that since COVID, they place greater value on spending time with their friends and family face-to-face.

As it turns out, my students’ stories reinforce the fact that we all have the basic need to love and be loved.  We want to know that someone sees us, respects us, and truly “gets” us.  Knowing that we matter to someone, that we make a difference, is paramount to our mental health. 

When we engage with others face-to-face, we experience the nuances of communication–tone, facial expression, body language and so forth.  Eye contact can communicate so much without words, and it can be an even more powerful tool when combined with meaningful words. I imagine that our most successful earliest ancestors survived by staying with their pack–not venturing out on their own to face the dangers and predators of the world.  The same is true now, only our dangers and predators are more subtle and cunning.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Our problem; Our Solution

Of course, it’s easy to dismiss my students’ writing as the grievances of angsty youth.  In fact, Dear Reader, you could tell me, “It’s your problem, Stephanie.  I didn’t choose education as a career.”   However, have you ever noticed that when you peel the “y” off of the word your, you are left with the word our.  

This is our problem, and while I cannot pretend I have the answers for such a far-reaching issue, I do believe in the power of small acts of kindness.  We can look for ways to help others, and I don’t just mean the traditional “Give money to the City Mission” or “Work at the Salvation Army” serving Thanksgiving dinner.  Not that I am putting either of those down–they are worthwhile deeds.  Instead, I am referring to our day-to-day real-life interactions and encounters.  How can we make a difference daily?

Can we give our loved ones, including friends and family, more of our undivided attention for a few minutes with the cell phone put away?  Can we make more eye contact and speak a few kind words with the person who serves your coffee, lunch, or an employee at your favorite grocery store?  Can we take time to help another person with the door, or be more patient with that co-worker that honestly gets on your nerves?  

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

kindness matters😎

The list could go on, but my point is this. Small acts of service communicate to others that they matter and that they are not invisible to you. I know it is easier said than done, given the fast pace of life.  Believe me, I struggle with it too!  What I do know is that little acts of service or kindness makes us feel good, and more importantly, can also impact another person’s life.  At the very least, it allows us to feel our own agency in addressing the problem of loneliness.

I conclude, with a small prayer of hope.  May we begin to lead more people-centered lives, so we can truly see one another’s need to matter. 🙏

Stuck On Flat Ground

“What you do makes a difference.  And you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”–Jane Goodall

Photo by Christina Morillo on Pexels.com

Sweeping ArounD 🧹

During the pandemic, I purchased a Roomba, an iRobot vacuum for which I could set a schedule for regular sweepings of the house.  There were three of us at the time, working from home and interacting a whole lot more with our two cats.  Thus, there was more than the normal amount of traffic in the main areas of our house, so the Roomba seemed like a good investment. 

It was great fun watching that little disc, affectionately named “Spot,” zip around the house whisking away the hair and dust while we worked.  At first, it seemed to move throughout the house in no certain order.  However, once its internal navigating system became familiar with the layout of our house, it didn’t take long for it to begin trekking over the carpet in precise patterns. We watched it move with intention, seemingly knowing where it was, where it wanted to go, and where it wanted to end before the battery needed to be recharged.

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Stuck AGain 🤔

Lately, however, it’s been sending me messages that it ended its job, “stuck.”  At first, I wondered how it was possible for Roomba to be stuck on a flat surface? I supposed its battery simply didn’t have the strength it once had. Now, the problem has grown even bigger, not only is it still sending me messages that it is “stuck,”  but it is also no longer functioning properly, pushing the cat hair into multiple mini-piles all over the carpet.  Now, we come home to find the Roomba, at a stand still in the middle of an open, flat area of our house.  It’s as if it is so focused on getting finished before its battery dies that it’s not taking to properly execute its job–sweep the dust and cat hair.

 This reminded me that sometime in life, it’s not necessarily the challenges that get us,  but instead, it’s the everyday routine that can cause us to get stuck in a rut.  Our own internal navigation system focuses so much on the destination–be it the end of the day, the end of the work-week, the number of days until a holiday/vacation, the number of years to retirement, and so forth–that we forget to pay attention to the road over which we travel. Navigation systems require two things: Knowing where you are, and where you want to be? However, if you don’t pay attention to the route, you won’t get to your destination.

No Stopping until We Reach our Destination ✈️

Too often we are so focused on our self-defined destination that we forget where we are and overlook not only the pothole in the road or traffic jam ahead, but we also ignore the beautiful scenery that lines the route. Our eyes become so fixated on “the end” that we will blunder and stumble through the motions of life, forgetting that we have a purpose in the here and now, not just once we reach our destination. In the same way that part of traveling is paying attention to the route in order to arrive safely, we too cannot fully and satisfactorily arrive at any self-determined destination without fully focusing on the route in between.

Photo by JESHOOTS.com on Pexels.com

Agency over Urgency🚘

As a young teenage driver, my parents often advised me to,  “Give yourself enough time to arrive safely at your destination.”  This is a great reminder for moving through life.  It reduces urgency, so that we can have agency.  Remembering that we have a certain level of agency in situations, no matter what our jobs/roles/responsibilities are, serves as a reminder that we have a certain level of choice as to where we put our attention and how we choose to react to the proverbial potholes in the road of life.

When we were new drivers, we needed to master small tasks, such as, navigating traffic, how/when to turn at a stop sign, how to safely pass another driver, and so forth. Working on these skills over time was part of the process to becoming a successful driver.  Likewise, as young adults, we approached life and our newly found adult role with the trepidation of a newly licensed driver.  Over time, just like with driving, the more we participate in our new roles, the more our knowledge increases.  It’s only natural that we begin to modify and adapt our navigational skills as we gain a better understanding of where we are and the direction our life is taking.

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

Inner Tune Up 🔧

However, it is easy to get stuck in the routine and lose sight of the actual route over which we travel.  We go through the motions, driving through life, but not really engaging with it. That’s when, like my iRobot, we need to reach out for “I-support” and perhaps do some trouble shooting.  We can do this through meditation, self-examination/reflection and also by connecting with the faith-based community of our choice, a trusted friend, family-member, or fellow mentor.  Through the process of self-reflection and reaching out to a trusted group or person, we can tune-up our inner-GPS, ensuring we are focused on our values and traveling, aka working, in alignment with them.

People-Centered Living 😃

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

When we focus more on our values, it helps us adhere to our destination’s route, but with less emphasis on the journey’s end and more emphasis on what is in front of us in the here and now. By observing who, or what, is in our day-to-day encounters, we might begin to see that we are more than our work.  Instead, we begin to live a more people-centered life, and not just work-centered lives.

Additionally, when we truly take the time to refocus on our values, we are taking time to also tune-up and adjust our own inner world, our internal navigation system. In the same way a fully functioning navigation system gets our cars to our ultimate destination, our internal pilot will wander all over the place without a robust, healthy internal world.  When our internal navigating system is off, we, too, become stuck on flat ground like my Roomba.

There’s nothing wrong with a daily routine.  They are necessary to complete life tasks.  However, let us not allow their regularity to cause us to overlook the very things that can feed our souls and enrich our life.  Let us take time to remember our core values, so that we are mindful of the destination without urgency, and use our agency to engage with the opportunities along the way. 

The Stardust of Grandparents Twinkles like their eyes

Papaw, in the backyard of my childhood home, with my hand resting on his shoulder. I am not sure what the moment or occasion was, but this photo captured a moment between the two of us.

A Light from the tunnel of times past 💡

My mom found and gave to me a picture of her dad, Papaw, as I called him.  In the photo, he is in the foreground, sitting at a table on the patio of my childhood.  In the background of that picture are several small details of my childhood home.  Gazing for some time at that picture transported me backwards through a tunnel of times past.

To begin, I noticed the infamous backdoor that we weren’t supposed to slam as children heading out to play.  Then, there’s the wooden fence my dad built, which reminded me that he also designed and poured the concrete for that patio. Additionally, I can see part of our clothes line with its bag of clothespins.  I recall my mom teaching me the proper way to hang clothes, sheets, and towels to minimize wrinkles and shorten the drying time. 

He ultimately sold his grocery store business and worked for C & O Railroad.

Papaw 👴🏻

Once the surge of those background memories drifted down the stream of remembrances, another torrent of emotions began swelling–Papaw.  In the photo he sits in one of his classic jumpsuits that he wore nearly every day of his life except for yard work and church events. His smile is tender in this photo, and despite the not-so-great quality of the camera, the picture still manages to capture that twinkle in his eyes.

 I adored that man. Now, as an aging adult, I am certain that Papaw was full of flaws.  Family rumors of the daredevil antics of his youth, his hobo days after marrying my grandmother– leaving her for weeks at a time to raise two young boys and manage an independent grocery store with its own lunch counter by herself– his issues with depression, and perhaps even some philandering, were whispered stories among the family adults.  As kids, we gathered bits and pieces of these stories, as one does a torn up letter, but we were simply too young to put the pieces together.  He was simply our Papaw.

Papaw and me in his backyard.

Traveling Backwards through the Tunnel of time 🔙

Staring at the photo of this complicated man that I am only now beginning to see in a realistic light, I assess the other person in the photo.  She is a college student with her hand on Papaw’s shoulder–a habit I recognize because it is me.  I tend to place my hand on the shoulders of people who are seated at tables, or even desks in a classroom.  I suppose it is my way of saying I care about you; how can I help; or, can I get you anything?  It took my breath away upon first seeing it.  So much is captured in that frozen image of time.

Papaw often called me a Kewpie-doll or China-doll. I am sure this was because of my size.  I was small for my age for many of my younger years.  I was also often sick during this time period, and I recall being hospitalized at least twice.  Both memories are blurs of oxygen tents, IVs in my thighs, dimly lit hospital rooms, and Papaw’s worried face when I would wake with bleary eyes from sickness induced sleep.  

Papaw and me. I am sure I just “helped” him wash his car.

Purple Hazy memories 💜

I remember during one of these stays, he gave me a purple popsicle.  Purple was my favorite color–a color he hated because he associated it with Christ’s crucifixion–but when faced with two granddaughters (my cousin and I) who both loved purple, he came to terms with that color. But, I digress. 

Anyway, he gave me that half popsicle.  (Remember how adults would break those double-stick popsicles into two?)  I was lying on my side, with the hospital bed rail up, trying to lick the popsicle for him.  He said it would make me better, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  The popsicle melted, and I remember waking enough to experience a short burst of fear that I would get spanked for making a mess.  (Not that Papaw would have ever laid a hand on me, but I was sick, and logic eluded me.) 

There was another time I woke up in a hospital bed crying because there were needles in my legs (IVs) and I was scared.  Papaw patted my hand and told me not to be afraid as he wiped away his own tears. 

During one of those hospital stays he gave me a bouquet of pink plastic flowers that my grandmother sprayed with perfume.  Once home, I kept it in my bedroom for years, and I would sniff it countless times to see if I could still catch a whiff of that perfume.

Runaway Story 🏃‍♀️

Another time, Grandmother and Papaw came to stay at our childhood home while my parents were out of town.  I became mad at my grandmother for some reason–that part eludes me–but I decided to run away.  I lived on a small cul-de-sac in the country, surrounded by hills, so I am not sure where I thought I would go.  Nonetheless, I took off running in my headstrong way down the street until I got to the main road with fast moving cars and no real safe space to walk.

Tail tucked between my legs, I slowly trudged back to my house, and I slumped against one side of it, arms crossed, still mad, but losing steam.  Out of the house came Papaw. I don’t know how he knew I was there, but there he was.  I am not sure precisely what he said, but he did tell me a story about a time he ran away. He added, with great solemnity, that running away never solved problems.

Looking back on that now, I wonder if there was more he was confessing, but I would not have been old enough to catch the symbolism of his words.  I do recall Papaw encouraging me to be more understanding of my grandmother.  He further added that as the oldest child, he counted on me to be her biggest helper.  He wanted me to apologize to Grandmother and be “his girl” by being her helper from then on.

Even in high school, I still adored my Papaw.

A Grandfather’s Love 💖

And that is what it came down to.  When I studied that picture, I was reminded of being “Papaw’s girl,” something he probably also told all the other grandchildren.  Nevertheless, I believed he loved me most of all, and that made me feel special.  It now seems naive and silly, but that is how he could make me feel.  A feeling that has never left me, even now as I look at that image.

Young, handsome, and daring . . .

The Abundance of his legacy ✨

 Wiping away my reminiscing tears, I gaze at this man who was complex in ways I never knew. He only had a 5th grade education, but he still managed to educate himself through his endless curiosity. Papaw was complicated, and yet simple. He managed to ultimately live an abundant life. 

Papaw traveled all over the world with my grandmother visiting and staying with missionaries, and he also traveled through his hometown as a teen standing on his circa 1920s motorcycle. He was the trusted treasurer of his church for as long as I can remember.  Papaw played football before there was all the protective clothing, and he loved the game until Alzhiemer’s disease took his mind. He retired from C & O railroad, and he once owned a grocery store that was flooded twice by the Ohio River. It was the ‘37 flood that ended those retail days and inspired him to build a house on a hill.  Yet, this same man once swam across the Ohio River from South Shore, KY to somewhere near Portsmouth. 

He had three children, my mom being a late-in-life surprise, and he had nine grandchildren.  He loved us all. 

There are stars which I regard in the mornings when I walk or run.  They line heaven’s boulevard.  They twinkle their good mornings to me like Papaw’s eyes once twinkled his love.  I’d like to think he is part of their stardust. 

I wish I could give every child a grandfather like mine.

Pushing through limiting beliefs: the case for contemplative practice

“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.”–Corinthians 13:11 NRSV

Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

Push or pull 🚪

Years ago, when I first started dating my husband, we traveled to a local town center and parked in its parking garage.  In order to access the stairwell from the garage, you had to go through a set of glass doors, but we encountered a problem.  

The doors would not push open for us.  John tried.  I tried.  For the life of us, we could not get those doors to open.  We nervously stood there wondering if we would spend the entirety of our second date standing in a parking garage.  Finally, one of us, and by now, I do not remember who, read the sign on the door, “pull here.”  It was really that easy.  The doors opened as if by magic.

Sometimes we are focusing our energy on continuing to open doors that keep our beliefs limited.

This past week, I was reminded of that memory.  Throughout my workweek as an educator, I travel between the high school and the middle school, in order to teach classes.  Structurally, the two buildings are designed quite differently based upon the era in which they build.  Therefore, their doors are designed differently as well.

While I don’t have an issue, as you may have predicted, between pushing and pulling the doors open for either building, instead, it is remembering, on the high school side, which of the double doors leading to each floor is the correct door to pull to open.  Exiting any floor, both doors push open, but when entering the floor, only one door pulls open, and you guessed it, I tend to grab the wrong door and try to pull it open.  You’d think by now, I’d have it down.

When I once more tried to pull the wrong door open again this past Friday, I thought back to that second date with John, and I began to reflect on all the ways life can be like those doors.  How often do we continue to push through something in life, when really we only need to gently pull.  Or, how many times have we reached for the wrong door to open, when the “right” door was there all along?

How many times do we continue pull ourselves through the same doors in life, when all really need to do is pull open a new door.

Those unidentified LImiting Beliefs 🤔

Many of us, at one time or another, have allowed limiting beliefs to influence our choices and actions in life.  These beliefs could have been established in our childhood, steeped in the culture of our local environment, or even part of time-specific attitudes of a specific decade.  For example, you may have been raised in one set of faith practices and remained faithful to that belief system because it seemed like the “only one.”  Another example might be that you were raised in a community with a limited mindset, and therefore, that influenced a large portion of your choices in early adult years.  Then, again, due the decade or family situation in which you were raised, you may have only felt as if you could only pursue specific career paths.

None of the scenarios, or any of the other hundreds of examples, are inherently bad or wrong.  In fact, for many people, it works out just fine until one day it doesn’t.  Specifically, I recall a young lady I once knew. Throughout her young life, she was pushed by parents and their social group to focus on her looks, and she was encouraged to have boyfriends from a young age.  This young lady was beautiful, but she was also bright and kind hearted.  Still, the message she received was that her purpose was to finish high school, marry, and be a mother.

Again, there is nothing wrong with beauty, dating, marriage, and motherhood.  It was the fact that these ideas were valued and encouraged at a young, impressionable age, and indeed, she did what was expected of her. However, when she became pregnant by her senior year of high school and dropped out of school, she was suddenly the object of gossip and rumors.  Her parents were furious with her, unable to see their role in this situation.

Photo by Rafael Henrique on Pexels.com

Coming face to face with limited Beliefs 🧐

In one fell swoop, the young lady appeared to lose her support system, and her shift suddenly shifted from what she had been taught her whole life to the well-being of herself and her child. Eventually, she went to live with a friend and her family. 

It took her years of struggling, but eventually, I am told, the young woman moved out of the area, worked numerous part time jobs in an attempt to support herself and her child.  As her child grew, she began to take online classes.  First, she earned her GED, and later, she earned her associates degree in business.  Some years later, I learned this tenacious woman married and worked for a fairly large business firm.  She never had another child, and she rarely sees her family.  Her child, at last count, was in graduate school.

What I do remember about this young woman was that she once shared with me, early in her pregnancy, how she felt pushed to meet what she thought were the expectations of her.  She reflected that she had spent most of her teen years starving herself to maintain a certain size.  Her education was not prioritized, but rather her social life, specifically dating.  She was pushing through her youth to meet what she thought was her family and community expectation.

Photo by Ivan Bertolazzi on Pexels.com

Recognizing internalized beliefs 🤨

This is only one example. When we only know one way to push, that’s how we open doors in life.  Racism, sexism, bias against other religions or religious bias, prejudice, limiting beliefs about gender roles, and the list could continue, can be restrictive, and even detrimental, ideas that we may not realize we have internalized. These types of belief systems typically occur due to the way in which we were raised, the groups with whom we socialize, the community in which we live, or, the social media platforms we choose to follow.  

Many of us don’t recognize that we may have these internalized limited belief systems until something changes.  All of the sudden, we come face-to-face with a situation in which our beliefs will no longer open the proverbial life door.  For example, years after the young lady moved away, I ran into her mother.  Her mom was divorced, living in a different community, and added she was attending a completely different type of church.  

The mom openly shared with me her regrets about the way she raised and treated her daughter.  Hindsight–and a perspective shift–caused her to see life differently.  At that last encounter, she said she was trying to re-establish a relationship with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchild.  I hope it worked out for her.

Photo by Matthias Zomer on Pexels.com

The case for Contemplative Practice 🙏

This is where having contemplative practice is important. Whether you do this through meditation, praying, formal scripture study with a trusted mentor, or simply set aside time to be with your own thoughts.  Self-examination and reflection of our actions and attitudes is critical for our personal growth as well as our spiritual growth. This includes taking time to identify areas in which we may still exhibit childish or limited beliefs, attitudes, and actions.  Once identified, the key is to consider the ways in which we can work to replace them with more mature, open-minded, and loving ways.

 In the end, we can keep moving through life pushing through doors based upon untested assumptions, or we can pause when we begin to feel resistance and ask ourselves if it’s time to pull, or at the very least, push open another door.  

Wounded Light: How our wounds, injuries, and hurts illuminate us

“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” Rumi, Sufi poet

Photo by Anastasiia Chaikovska on Pexels.com

Pain-handler 🔥

My daughter once made an off-hand remark about the way I handle pain. She said something to the effect that my legs could be broken, my hair on-fire, and I’d still claim to be fine because my arms were still working. Of course, she was exaggerating because I am definitely not immune to pain.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

I do, however, possess the ability to distract and/or redirect my focus away from discomfort.  On first glance, this can seem like a good thing, and I suppose, at times, it is.  Tolerating pain and challenges is what allows humans to get through tough times.  And while I could offer plenty of examples of the benefits for “shouldering through the pain/trauma/difficulty,” I think it is important to also recognize that by “shouldering through,” not only is it possible to create a bigger issue, but we are also missing an opportunity to see the Light within.

Photo by Wallace Chuck on Pexels.com

Accepting Limits 🛑

There are times when it is necessary to acknowledge and accept our wounds/injuries.  The pain is signaling that, at least for the time being, we need to accept new limits and boundaries in order to enhance the healing process.  This is true not only for physical pain, but also true for mental health trauma.

However, for many of us, myself included, sitting with and accepting pain is often difficult. Whether it is genetics, environment, or society, many of us would much rather suffer through our pain with a smile painted on our faces, than truly feel and acknowledge that we are hurting.  For some, this is a matter of pride, for others, it may mean admitting defeat and/or imperfections–while for others it is simply an extension of their stoic nature.  

Then, there are those who know that to feel the pain would mean to feel their own brokenness, quite possibly forcing them to name their suffering.  This is often a result of the connotation society has attached to specific words associated with pain.  Words such as, injury, hurt, pain, broken, surgery, depression, anxiety, recovery, often have a negative association attached to them causing many to recoil in fear and resistance at such an identification.  For others, there is an association with weakness if identified as having one of those.

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Self-Compassion ❣️

It is with that understanding, I encourage all of us, myself included, to take time to acknowledge our wounds, our injuries, and our mental anguishes, past or present. Additionally, it is important to acknowledge the limitations and/or pain those hurts created.  Finally, it is most important to do these while offering ourselves compassion.  If a loved one was suffering with an injury, we would want to help them in any way we can, so let us begin to treat our own pains with the same level of tender-heartedness.  Taking time for our own healing is not a selfish act, but an act of seeing the Divine Light working within us.

I came across a line in a poem that said, “We are wounded healers,” and it really gave me a moment of pause.  The poet had a point, we have all been injured in some way, from scraped knees and elbows when we were children, to broken bones, illnesses, or a mental health crisis as we moved through our teens years and continuing into our present adulthood. It is important to note that each hurtful event informed and shaped us, whether we realized it or not. Unfortunately, there are many of us who have and/or continue to suffer silently through multiple painful experiences and traumas, past and present. 

 Our bodies and mental health have limits. When pushed past our natural boundaries, our injury or trauma signals us with pain in an attempt to get us to take time to allow the body and/or mind to heal. Given certain situations, there are times, events, and circumstances in which we lack the power to grant time for healing. This is often the case in childhood trauma and abusive relationships.  

Other times, however, we prefer the quick-fix route–give me a pill and make it stop method–so I can move on with my life. However, quick-fixes don’t always create an optimal environment for healing. Instead, they tend to mask the underlying issue, allowing the injury/pain to fester in silence. 

Photo by JESHOOTS.com on Pexels.com

Wounded Healers ❤️‍🩹

This is regrettable because in those moments of injury, when we allow our bodies or minds time to heal and recover; we begin to bear witness to the miraculous creations that we are.  The same Source that created us is the same Source that can help heal us, in tangent with a healthy dose of prescribed treatment.  Our bodies and minds have been uniquely fashioned with astonishing proportions of resilience, strength, and fortitude.  We can be wounded, but we can be healed.  We are all, in the words of the poet, wounded healers.

Numerous writers and poets have written that our wounds and injuries allow the Light to enter us.  This Light enlightens us.  In fact, the more we have been scared by life’s injuries, the greater our understanding of the fragility and preciousness of life.  Further, our capacity for empathy with those who are suffering also increases, thereby granting us the added insight to words and actions that may provide comfort to those experiencing similar injuries and wounds.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Light within 🕯️

Our many wounds and scars offer us greater illumination from within. Our True Source of strength resides in those areas. Those old wounds serve as reminders of our survival, growth, and our own knowing.  The knowing of how it feels to truly hurt, and the full joy of knowing what it means to heal and recover.  There is the additional  knowing that healing can sometimes hurt as tissue and mental faculties are fashioned together in a new, often more durable manner.  And there is the ultimate knowing that nothing, not injury, not pain, and not even us, lasts forever.

Therefore, the next time injury, pain, or suffering comes calling, can we challenge ourselves to allow it?  Can we learn the lesson it may be offering us? To be sure, the process is not easy, and it requires patience as well as a heaping portion of trust, especially when the other side of healing may not mean a pain free life. However, in the same way sunlight can illuminate even the smallest of cracks, we too can hold tightly to the faith that the Light, our True Source, can heal and shine through our wounded selves. 

Photo by EKATERINA BOLOVTSOVA on Pexels.com