Tag Archives: Hope

Soul & Solace: Cruel Summer

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , , , , ,

Have you heard Bananarama’s song, “Cruel Summer?” The plaintive melody accompanies lyrics that describe a sweltering season make crueler by circumstance. 2024 was, for us, a cruel summer: due to a perfect storm of hardship and heartache. Hardships global and national; heartbreak in vocation and for our family. Then, days before our creativity camp’s start date—with materials and food purchased and prepped, our house transformed into a space station, parents counting on us for childcare and children jazzed about launching their imaginations into space, we got grounded.

Mere weeks before the CDC approved a new vaccine for recent strains of the virus, COVID swept through our family. We had to cancel camp. We’ve never done that before: even during the worst of the pandemic, we went online, delivering art supplies to participants’ doors and guiding learning via the Internet.

In its eighteen years of service, A Spacious Place has made its way through a more than our share of hardships and heartbreaks. We’ve always picked ourselves up, dusted ourselves off, and got back to it. This time was different. This time I saw no way forward. Felt no hope.

When the virus was done with me, the communities we serve awaited. I waded through preparation and packing for the simple reason that I couldn’t stand to be around myself if I let these people down. It helped that my family was there for me.

Classes got easier each time we went, each time we watched creativity unfold and faces find grins. Each day had its bright spots. For our August Young Artists Club, we provided Messy Art Day activities we’d planned for camp. The afternoon was messy, noisy, laugh-filled, wet, and wonderful.

I suspect someone reading this piece knows about cruel seasons. My hope for you is

1. That you be especially kind to yourself; wounds require rest and care;

2. That you take a step forward in hope, even if it’s a baby step; and

3. That you stay connected with someone who loves you unconditionally. We need connection, especially when times are cruel.

Today, I’m grateful for cooler temperatures and the promise of fall leaves. For the people we serve and for those who serve alongside us. And hope. I’m grateful always for hope.

What helps you hope? What do you do for self-care? Do you have a song that names a life experience for you? Share your thoughts at contact@aspaciousplace.com.

Soul & Solace: What Can I Do?

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Perhaps you voiced the words aloud. Perhaps they trouble your soul: felt but unsaid. How do we face the day, knowing what is done cannot be undone? Children are dead. For no reason. Families devastated. For no reason. Students traumatized. For no reason.

The brutality of the Uvalde shooting shatters our hearts. But what can we do? What good are my tears: hot as they are with rage? What good are anyone’s?

I have no answers: just the story of a gift, an Easter gift, long delayed. The package, a present from our daughter, arrived the day of the Uvalde shooting. The creators of the gift, artists Oleg and Darina, included with the present a note, handwritten in English and adorned with hand-drawn hearts: “With love from Ukraine!” Due to the murders we’re calling “Putin’s War,” Oleg and Darina had been forced to relocate, hence the delay in shipping.

The package arrived resealed: my guess is it had been opened and searched. Inside the taped-up box lay six smaller boxes. Each housed an intricately painted fragile egg: in perfect condition. They are, each, a wonder. Staring at them, more tears came: tears of awe, gratitude, and sorrow.

I have no answers. But I think of Oleg and Darina and realize that we live in a world of brutality and beauty. And that which way we lean—toward or the brutal or the beautiful—makes a serious difference in our lives and in the lives of others. Oleg and Davina lean toward beauty in the midst of brutality. Their choice guides mine, between tears.

So, what can we do?

 

Between tears

         Tell someone we love them

Between tears

         Gaze up at stars or down at a flower

Between tears

         Scream primal prayers at the heavens

Between tears

         Stand in another’s shoes

Between tears

         Savor beauty

Between tears

         Drive like a human

Between tears

         Create beauty

Between tears

         Feel water on our skin and the sun on our face

Between tears

         Do the world some small good, just because we can

Between tears

         Know our tears matter.

Ukranian Painted Eggs by Oleg and Darina

Soul & Solace January 2018

Creativity/Spirituality, , , , , , , ,

It’s a fresh year. We’ve begun it here in Austin with a snapping chill in the air—and with flurries of snow. The days are shorter, the nights longer. Perfect for reflection and anticipation.

My new year’s reflections landed on a snippet of a psalm: “I will solve my riddle to the music of a harp (Ps. 49:2).” The line struck me like a gust of winter wind. “Yes!” I said through chattering teeth: “That’s why A Spacious Place exists. It’s our hope for each person!” So, with our best hopes for you in 2018, here are some ideas for your soul’s riddle solving.

  • Ask. What question presses on your soul as you begin 2018? You might have a whole fleet of questions. Flesh them out in the shape of written words. Look at what you’ve written: these are the riddles of your soul. They’re yours to solve—in tandem with your highest allegiance. Take a long, pondering look.
  • Create. Once you’ve fleshed out your riddles(s), apply a bracing dose of creativity. Harp music was the natural expression for our psalmist. Writing’s my native tongue: longhand with a pen whose ink flows onto the page. Yours might be sewing or painting or cooking or doodling. Find what works for you. Then paint or plant or plait your riddle. Let your creative work ask the hard questions. Honesty’s the only way to solve your soul riddle.
  • Wait. Last, give yourself some grace and your puzzling some time. Riddle solving’s a process: processes take a while. You may greet 2019 still puzzling this one out. But, once you’ve set your riddle to a tune uniquely yours, you’ll be attuned to its solving throughout the year: as the days grow longer and warmer, and then snap back to bracing cold.

The delight of a riddle is in the work of its solving. We, at A Spacious Place, wish for you in 2018 a year such challenge and eventual delight.

How do you solve the riddle of your soul? We’d love to read your thoughts.

February 2012 Soul and Solace

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Ramah Faith

       “A voice was heard in Ramah,
              wailing and loud lamentation,
                      Rachel weeping for her children;
                             she refused to be consoled, 
                                   because they are no more.” 
                                             (Matthew 2:18 NRSV)

The above passage, drawn from the book of Jeremiah by the writer of Matthew’s Gospel, takes us to the bone. Transported to Ramah, we feel Rachel’s loss and suffering. We stand with her in the timelessness of her grief.

Perhaps you, too, know inconsolable loss
              of loved ones,
                     of health,
                            of relationships,
                                   of childhood,
                                          of dreams,
                                                 of innocence,
                                                        of job,
                                                               of....

Standing in the truth of loss and choosing faith is a hard thing. A Ramah Faith is one baptized in tears—and in fire. It is a gritty, hard-edged faith that has moved beyond politeness and into fierce-eyed determination. It is a faith that asks questions that may never, in this lifetime, meet their answers. It’s a faith that gets us out of bed in the morning when we want only to curl our knees into our chest, close our eyes, and sink into unknowing. It’s feeling that…and getting up anyway.

A Ramah faith lives with its scars.

Do you stand alongside Rachel? Have you have survived or are you dwelling this moment in Ramah? Then please consider joining our online community. Beginning next week, visit our site at www.RamahFaith.com, where you can express the truth of your loss in a variety of creative forms. Also, you can suggest ways we can serve as your supportive community in your Ramah season. Have questions?

July 2011 Soul and Solace

Creativity/Spirituality, , , ,

Extreme Drought

Texas is dry. Acutely. Meteorologists tell us we are in an extreme drought. Listless plants, beaten by a merciless sun, drop their leaves in surrender; their once regal green pales to a dead yellow. Then, a few weeks ago, a couple of clouds drifted by, spat out a few drops of rain, and cruised off. I stepped outside afterward, and radiant green greeted me. The plants held their heads high.

We’ve not seen any rain since then, but the plants still retain their green. Hope is powerful stuff.

In seasons of extreme drought—from the trauma of divorce to the tedium of thankless work—we can stand under water, absorbing hope through every pore.

What do you experience as “extreme drought?” Where, how, when do you find hope enough to hold up your head?

April 2011 Soul and Solace

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Getting Hit

Thanks to the ingenuity of a neighbor, at this time of the year our community receives “hits” from the Mafia Bunny. A few volunteers begin the “hits” by filling baskets with goodies and, when no one is looking, depositing them on the doorsteps of unsuspecting neighbors. Those neighbors tie yellow ribbons on their doors to signify that they’ve been hit, then refill the baskets with goodies of their choice, and “hit” other unsuspecting neighbors.

Two years ago, Easter was a hard season in our home: unemployment, illness, and broken hopes had pretty thoroughly vanquished us. We awoke one morning, opened our door, and found ourselves “hit.” I watched my husband’s eyes light up and I felt a resonant light in my own. That basket was much more than the trinkets nestled inside its cellophane grass. For us, it was a basket full of hope.

What if, as our spiritual practice this month, we “hit” some unsuspecting persons with gifts of hope? It could be a handmade card or some home-baked bread, or a bottle of water for a guy standing in the heat. And if we can do it on the sly—get away with our “hit” unseen and unsuspected—so much the better!

Have you experienced being “hit by hope?” We’d love to hear about it!

 

November 2010 Soul and Solace

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Living in Sept. 12

Looking toward Thanksgiving has me gazing backward to our family worship time the weekend of Sept. 11. We folded paper into thirds so that it opened like the Isenheim Altarpiece (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isenheim_Altarpiece). On the outside we depicted events from history, from around the world, and from personal experience that carried elements of Sept. 11, 2001: the hatred, the terror, the violence, as well as the dignity, the valor, the mythic heroism. Inside the paper altarpiece, we depicted our choice to live in a Sept. 12 world: first acknowledging the truth of Sept. 11 (as well as other events and experiences that rock us to the core), then choosing to live the next day and the next . . . in hope.

What practices would belong to your Sept. 12 world? What, for you, is hope? How important is hope in your life?