Category: reflections

I went to workout at the y today, and after I was done decided to walk home. Just to see if I could. Typical me behavior. It’s about a mile, and the area closest to water is pretty much deserted during the day with a few business types and medical professionals sprinkled in. Towards the end I realized that was too far, and my walk was shortened right around the time that started to dawn on me by my Romanian shuttle driving friend who saw me walking. I am thankful.

To think of where I was and what I have come back from over the last three years is pretty mind boggling. I have never been one to put boundaries on myself, and that has come in handy I feel. Especially on days like today when I’ve walked 12,000 steps and it’s not even 3pm. I am a better and fiercer human being for my ability to just keep pushing forward; especially in this season of life that I find myself in now. And today I am grateful for my river walk and the ability to walk in the first place. But for the Grace of God go I. He is why I can walk, and it is He who will help me to run. ❤️

It is very easy to become disheartened at the state of things around the world. I would argue that throughout history times have always been trying, and the world has always been in a state of disarray since it’s inception. (Adam and Eve, bless your hearts. 🙄) The only difference in the here and now, is that we are living in a profits driven, ultra electronic age, and technology and social media can a lot of times saturate our minds with the idea that there is no hope, and that everything and everyone around us are terrible. Or that we should just buy more stuff or pop a pill to fix anything and everything that ails us.

But that just isn’t so. It isn’t so because our life here on Earth is but a grain of sand compared to an eternity with God. We are down here on Earth to prepare for that eternity, and though we may have close friends and family that we can count on and love, and having a human hand to hold is always a wonderful thing, we should be hope filled because of what is to come-not because of what is on this Earth.

Don’t get me wrong, people are indeed acting out of their collective minds. And personally, my body is the product of a fractured and rapidly decaying public and private health system that is completely driven by monetary gains. I get the frustration, anger, malcontentedness and fear. I feel those emotions sometimes, and make no apologies for feeling things that, as my dearest friend would say, I have felt because I need to. But despite that, and with continued daily prayer I am joy filled. I am joy filled because I know that my hope ultimately comes from absolutely nothing of this Earth, and I work daily to put my faith in what is above and not below because I want to end up with God at the conclusion of my lifetime. Not with more money than I know what to do with; I couldn’t take any of it with me anyhow.

As a person who has been through 80 years worth of life in 37, I have found that I am often looked at strangely for not curling up in a ball and shot gunning beers all day. No matter how fun that might be, and no matter how tempting it is to do that, I do not. In my short and yet long life, there has been a voice in the back of my head that has told me to just keep going. Sometimes that voice has been muffled. Sometimes I have muffled it. But the still small voice has been persistent in its urging, and in its love. I could say that this voice is the God of my understanding. I could say it is the great spirit in the great beyond or some such. But to me this voice is God. He is the air we breathe. He is who makes us hesitate before crossing a sleepy street, and then a car runs a stop sign. He is who makes us question doing something before we do it that we know is wrong, and reminds us that we don’t have to. He is who makes us nod and say good morning to someone who hasn’t heard those words in the better part of perhaps five years. He is who reminds us to share the blessings we have been given with those who have none. He is who created every bird differently. He is who created humans all differently, but in His image. It is He who challenges us to be the best version of ourselves, and reminds us of His abiding and steadfast love no matter what we do.

I searched for a long while for the purpose of the sadness and hard I have experienced in my life. But my answer, even now, has been to just keep going. To do the footwork. To write words choke full of meaning, and to remind others that the still small voice of God is who loves them best. Thank goodness for that.

Something that I have always dealt with in my life is high grade anxiety. Worrying and being anxious about what is and what could be is so taxing, and if you’re in the habit of expecting everything to go wrong, I’ve found you’ll usually find something that has.

Almost two years ago, which is SO hard to believe, I went through an intense traumatic experience that turned my world upside down. Going through that took the anxiety I have always felt and multiplied it times a million. I had to build myself back cognitively and physically and I’m not the same as I once was in both of those areas. And yet, here I am, peaceful, and have come out of the other side of that situation a more strong and authentic version of myself; even though I am so different now than I once was.

What is my secret to not being anxious 24/7/365 now? Is it the survival instinct that runs deep within me almost down to the bone marrow? Partially. The secret that I’m speaking of in our society, that is always so hungry for quick fixes is actually pretty cut and dry. I cling every single day to what is above and not what is below. I have human hands to hold, as my Papa Mac used to say, but at the end of the day I know that if I cling to God that will make all the difference. He continues each day to smooth out the rough edges of the traumatic things that I have experienced and make them new and for a greater good and continually floods me with peace. For that I am most thankful.

Every month, I go and eat breakfast at this semi bougie place around the corner. My breakfast is always a seasonal waffle, shell eggs, and chicken sausage. A date with myself because I enjoy that sort of thing. Anyway, I’d finished half my waffle, and all the trimmings I just mentioned, and a man on a bike road up, and asked if i had extra change for food. What struck me most about his question was that he was hungry. I said yes, even though I really don’t have any extra money to feed another person, and asked him what he liked. When he began to rattle off every breakfast and lunch item on the planet, I knew he was indeed very hungry. I said sir, I don’t have extra enough for all that. Will a stack of pancakes work? He said that it would, and that he would have taken my half eaten waffle that was by that time sandwiched between two dirty plates. That made me let out of gasp/chuckle noise of sorts, and I said no sir you certainly will not eat that, and flagged my server down to add the stack of pancakes topped with fruit to my tab.

This man told me the story of his life while those pancakes were no doubt pushed through the kitchen speedily, and i don’t think anybody had taken the time to ever hear it all until that morning. He was extremely loud and used his hands a lot, and when the server brought out his to go bag, I knew he was going to truly devour them by the grin on his face from six feet away. We wished each other well, and off he went.

A different server than the one I had that had asked if I was okay while I was talking with this fella, said she understood and respected me doing a good deed, but knew that they’d have other visitors more so than usual now who were looking for food on the patio more than likely that day. I apologized for any trouble I’d caused, but when he said he wanted food I knew I had to help. Another man asked me who was hungry, and I pointed towards the 711, and he walked his untouched eggs over there too.

I saw him later riding his bike away from the 711. He told me a man had come up to he and the group of people sharing the food he’d been given and starting yelling at them. He told me he stood up to him, and that man had said he’d call the authorities. I said well sir, you’d better be on your way then. And told him to have a good day and to behave himself. He laughed and said have a blessed day ma’am-you behave too. I knew in that moment I’d never see him again.

This encounter further cemented in my mind that I am indeed in the correct area. I have wonderful neighbors, friends, the basics and I feel safe and secure; even peaceful most days. Some of those are welcome additions to my life. But I would say it is encounters with those that have nothing, and are stuck knee deep in a cycle of poverty so very hard to get out of without an address, that mean the most to me. Those men and women keep me humble and grateful and make my heart grow. The face of Christ can be found in every last one of them.

There is an Asian woman that I encounter often by the supermarket where I get my groceries. She is always very respectful and minds her own business. I can tell that it has been awhile since she’s showered, or been around people regularly that don’t live on the streets. But she weaves in and out of the folks that live in this neighborhood, and those that visit it, and somehow both blends in and survives. I can’t really understand what she says, but every time we see one another we nod at each other and continue on with our day. A mutual acknowledgment of the humanity that exists in the other person I suppose.

Today when I saw her, she was at the table next to me as I was getting my groceries situated in my little cart for the walk home on the grocery stores patio area, and I offered her a box of breakfast bars that were from a bogo this store was having. She nodded, said thanks, and asked if I could open a hot sauce packet for her. I realized in that moment that she considered us friends, or at the very least acquaintances. So of course I did what any friend would do, and tried to open it and failed miserably. I told my new friend I couldn’t get it open and that my hands don’t work right at times, and I think she said “that’s okay! Thanks! Bye!”

As I was turning to leave, I realized she may not like apple cinnamon breakfast bars, and offered strawberry to her. She readily accepted those instead, and waved goodbye to me again- her new friend.

The city that I live in now has given me many things; healthcare, an extra dose of tenacity brought on by trauma, new friends, my first church home since converting to Catholicism, peace, happiness, and an authentic way of looking at the world and those in it for exactly what and who they are. That can be both a good and a bad thing having no more blinders on. Today it was a good thing. Today I made a friend and fed someone. Not for accolades or likes, but because it was the right thing to do, and that Asian lady is made in the image and likeness of God just like everyone else is. Plus, why does one person need two boxes of breakfast bars anyhow? I digress. We are all quite literally the same and all matter equally because we are all Gods children. He doesn’t love any one of us over the other. I am thankful for this reminder today. I am thankful for one more friend. Most of all, I am thankful for a God that continues to love us all in-spite of ourselves.

I haven’t written a post in a long time. I’m making it a point from now on to write much more often. I haven’t lately mostly because most days I don’t feel well physically, and the act of doing anything at all takes all the umph I can muster. Not all days are miserable. As a matter of fact, none of them are. This is because the Grace (note the capital g) in suffering is seeing God in everything and everyone.

I don’t wear my suffering like a badge of honor, though my medical struggles are often how I’m identified. More specifically, that I survive things a lot of folks would not or have not. I don’t attribute all of the miraculous times I’ve survived to myself. I am stubborn, and have a survival instinct that runs so deep it’s almost in my bone marrow. No, I attribute these instances to God.

I heard on a Catholic podcast months ago, that Christians should live out their faiths so boldly, that other people wonder what they have that they don’t. While the Grace in my suffering is seeing God in everything and everyone, it is also others seeing God in me. For that, I am thankful. I am so ridiculously undeserving of the blessings poured out over my life, even through times of extreme hardship. All of us are. But as my Methodist Preacher Uncle, Uncle Ed, who i affectionately called Blessed Brother Woodall, said once, “You can ask me the same question a million different ways, Sister Lisa, but my answer will always be the same. He does these things because He loves us.” For that I am most thankful. Despite my lifestyle changes, my inability to do some of the things I once did so easily, looking down the road at surgery, being heartbroken or disappointed at times, etc. and so forth; He loves me inspite of myself, and none of these things that are so ugly and hard are His fault. He is my biggest cheerleader. He is all of our biggest cheerleader. For that I am thankful. For that is the reason I keep going, and see Him in everything and everyone. ❤️

Recently, and I’m not entirely sure what triggered this line of thinking, I have been thinking about what I would say to my younger self if I had the chance. Life has for the most part not been altogether easy for me, and it certainly wasn’t growing up, but it has been beautiful. Below you will find a letter to young Lisa. Maybe some of what is below will help whoever reads this. That will be my hope.

Dear Lisa,

Hey you. 36 year old you wanted to reach out and say hello. I know that life is challenging right now. You’re in high school! Congrats! Only 4 more years until college! People bully you a lot , and you feel so out of place. The lights are so bright in classes, and every noise distracts you. You don’t care about football games, or the band. As a matter of fact, I know just as well as you do, that most of the time you spent in band for those two years in middle school you didn’t actually play that trumpet. It’s okay though. Pretty soon you’ll witness the twin towers collapsing in computer applications. That will shake you to your core always. You’ll go back to St Paul’s where you belong. The library will always remain a sanctuary of sorts. You’ll graduate and Jim L. will come!

You’ll also lose our Daddy mid year of your senior year. Im so sorry and if I could hold you and tell you that, even though you won’t believe me, you’ll always miss him but know where he ends up and eventually find peace and acceptance, i so would. You’ll fake it that year and then you will end up in Indiana for two years! You’ll fall in love. You’ll make life long friends. You’ll learn not to mix different colors of liquor. You’ll find The Church.

That last sentence is what I want to really focus on. You see, Lisa, even though you will later be chewed up and spit out by the healthcare system, your heart will be broken a handful of times, and you’ll experience true pain and horror, that presence you discovered in college was Jesus and He will make all the difference. Those painful moments will turn you into a survivor. You will thrive, and He, Jesus, will be at the center of it all. You will learn that He is the only thing that matters. He never leaves you, and you will want for nothing if your eyes are fixed on Him. He doesn’t likely care for the language you use later, and it makes Him sad when you do stupid things. But you must never forget that He loves you. That is all that matters. Not money, super model looks, or a plethora of stuff. Just Him.

The world loses focus on Him eventually. People will claim to believe in Him, but their actions will say otherwise. There will be a pandemic (google Spanish Flu), and you will survive it.

Lisa, All the bad stuff ends up creating an iron clad resolve to keep going. You do. So don’t worry! Things get better eventually. You’ll always be an odd duck, but pretty soon you’ll have more friends than you know what to do with, later an incredible dog named Ellie, and FINALLY realize what truly matters; Jesus.

I love you, and you’ll learn to love you, too.

Love,

36 year old You

I am not so good with dates anymore. My sister use to tease that I could remember a person who looked at me sideways when I was two, or that wronged me in 2nd grade in the lunch line. She had a point back then. My memory was once a steel trap, and close to photographic. Not so much now, but it is improving daily at a pretty unbelievable pace. Needless to say, my brain has grown accustomed to trauma over the years.

But I digress. At some point fairly recently, since I cannot remember the date, my best frand told me an interesting end of life scenario that she believes happens when those of use that go to Heaven get to Heaven. She believes that we sit down next to God and watch a movie of our lives. Sometimes He hugs us, puts His arm around us, let’s us cry on His shoulder, pats us on the back for a job well done, and sometimes He stops the movie and turns to us and asks us why.

Needless to say, I have been thinking about that scenario often since my frand shared it with me. Will I be proud of the movie of Lisa in Heaven? I think I will get a well done good and faithful, and turn my first backflip when I walk in after I hug some relatives certainly, but will I be proud of this movie? Did I do all I could in this life to become a saint? What He yearns for us all to become. No.

I often ask God why He sees fit to continue to so brazenly extend my life over and over again. I don’t yet know the answer. But I know my life has changed in the last year and a half, and He should do more of the directing of the movie of Lisa. I want to be proud to sit next to Him and watch it some day. 🙂