Saving Grace - Resilience
by Miracle Chasers on 07/19/12
Whoever tries to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it. (Luke 17.33) All four Gospel writers quote Jesus saying something like this. And the message, shared with me by Sister Mary Dominic, has kept me alive in a certain kind of way. While the good Sister wanted to teach us third graders about the benefits of literal martyrdom as a sure way to heaven, the idea that I could lose everything and still live well has been in the back of my mind ever since.
My career goal was to be a Dean of Students in a university. I was in class, getting my PhD for that purpose, the day Liz was shaken by our neighbor's nanny. They had employed a nanny for their own baby daughter and I left Liz at their house for my three hour afternoon class. This decision would change my entire life, and Liz, forever.
Liz, my first child, almost died that day, shaken violently by the nanny. As a result, Liz was left totally blind.
I equate my experience of Liz's abuse in this way: You are going along with all your life's dreams like eggs in a basket, doing your very best to watch your step and attend to each egg, when suddenly, out of the blue, something or someone whacks your arm from underneath, sending those eggs into the air, sky-high. Frantically, you scramble to catch them, hoping to get them all back unscathed. Fortunately, some land safely in the basket's soft grass. But some crack open and break when they hit the earth. When you finally have the presence of mind to think about searching the ground around you, you find that some eggs miraculously remain unbroken and you gratefully place them back in your basket. Sadly, others have rolled away never to be found. No matter how hard you try, after this day, your basket is never the same. While the "eggs in the basket" metaphor is cliché, it captures perfectly how fragile life can be and how quickly life can change. When you are in this situation, you can feel uniquely singled out by God or by Fate, quite alone, knowing that no one in the world can understand what it is to be you.
Resilience is something that even Oprah is talking about these days. Years ago, I wrote my dissertation about women who survived sudden, unexpected tragedies and took their losses and experience out into the world to change the very thing that had gone wrong for them. We have the resilience of these women to thank for tougher drunk driving laws, pool safety requirements, motorcycle helmets, and safety caps on pill bottles. While some would have us believe resilience is a personal trait (you have it or you don't), it really is a process. Current research confirms that being able to "bounce back" is actually a complex set of interactions between the individual and the environment and includes a group of protective factors that are found in one's community. While these factors cannot "innoculate" against trauma, when available, identified, and taken by the individual, they may be able to provide crucial elements at critical times. This resilience process supports a sense of well-being and the ability to cope with a challenging life experience.
If we think about these "protective factors" from a spiritual point of view, we are actually talking about ways in which we can be an "instrument of peace" as Saint Francis prayed to be. Some spiritualists might talk of these opportunities as "the Universe conspiring" and sometimes we can think of these moments as coincidences, or even miracles. I think of them as examples of human Grace.
Grace is the young mother who, after my presentation on life transitions for blind children, came up to me and told me she managed an apartment complex in Berkeley that she thought might just meet Liz's needs. Grace is the friend who knows that after being laid off from work and then breaking her arm, her friend needs a day at the ocean and takes her there. Grace is the good preschool that offers encouragement and behavioral supports to the young child and his mother when the four-year-old starts to have trouble at school because Dad's been deployed for the second time in the child's short life. Grace is the friend who encourages the couple going through a difficult time in a marriage to open up instead of shut down. Grace is the friend who mentions that there is a job opening at her agency to a young father out of work. Whether it is concrete support during a life transition, emotional support in a time of need, or providing information, personal connection and practical assistance, Grace is something we all have an opportunity to offer when the basket is suddenly upended and there are eggs in the air.
If I get this right, to paraphrase my philosopher daughter, Aristotle believed that living well consists in actively pursuing your life goals and plans - the things that give your life value - in a thoughtful, practically reasoned, and distinctly human way. But given the sudden, unexpected and often life-changing events inherent in living, when we are derailed, we need active support to promote and shore up our well-being. When the winds blowing against us are too strong, we need real, concrete engagement from our community. Human flourishing and resilience depend very much on this kind of Grace. While prayer groups, monetary donations, and food and clothing drives are important, Grace, the kind I am talking about, is not a distant event; it is close up and personal. We sometimes tend to think of adversity as a human failing. The Grace we have to offer each other - Human Grace - is the antidote to that kind of thinking. Our individual response to someone who is going through a challenging time can be the very wind that fills the space left by our losses - the wings of Grace which lifts the kite and helps it fly.
Father Knows Best
by Miracle Chasers on 06/14/12
I had a dream once, or at least I thought it was a dream at the time. Our older daughter Laura was several weeks old; her birth had coincided with a mix of emotions, mostly euphoria and joy, but also the resurfacing of a deep sadness that my father, who had died a few years before, would never know her. In my dream, my father appeared at the bottom of the stairway, not in a form I recognized; I simply had an understanding of his presence there. He was looking up in anticipation, before he climbed the stairs and wandered into the nursery where he lingered next to Laura’s crib. He crossed the hall to our room where I sensed him just inside the doorway, his visit there more fleeting. And then he was gone. I woke up, one moment to the next seamless, the dream taking place in what seemed like real time and space. What a gift this was to me.
I feel blessed for the years I had my father in my life. As the years have unfolded since he died, I know that memory can play tricks on you, that his good qualities, and there were many, overshadow any faults he may have had (as it should be, and may I be granted the same selective memory from my children!) But the wisdom he imparted has remained fresh and true despite the years, and has woven its way throughout my life.
“You have choices, Katie, so make one, and stop complaining,” he said to me after my third night in a row describing my “unfair” first boss.
Dad was happy to discuss the choices I had, including finding another job, which I did. He was not willing to allow me my victimhood. He was happy to help as long as I was willing to take responsibility for my own circumstances, overcome inertia, and rise to the challenge. My second job proved to be the catalyst for a successful career and I never looked back. I learned I could sail my own ship.
One summer lunch hour in San Francisco, we ran into each other on a street corner. He was scurrying off to a business lunch, but stopped to say hello and give me a hug. His hug caused the welling up of tears in my eyes as happens on occasion when guards are let down in the safety of loving arms. He asked if this had to do with the long time, on again-off again boyfriend I had been chasing (humiliating as that is to admit) since my freshman year in college. I nodded.
“One of these days, you are going to wake up and realize that you are the catch, not him-and when you do, I assure you it will be his misfortune,” he told me.
Ah, yes, a push toward self-esteem, good to have. It was also news to me that he had been tuned in all along to the vagaries of my love life (with four daughters, this was hardly expected and best left to my poor mother who swept up more broken hearts than dust balls!) I did muster the courage to break off the relationship later that summer, freeing me to meet the love of my life. My father lived long enough to walk me down the aisle.
A year after Jim and I were married, I came to spend the day at my parents home. Back from a run around the familiar streets of their neighborhood, I found my father sitting in the family room staring out the window at his beloved garden, no doubt making a mental list of all that it needed. He had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and it was about a month before he died.
“Dad, my knee is still bothering me. I don’t think I’ll be able to run in the race I’ve been training for,” I announced as I came into the room, still huffing and puffing.
He turned around slowly to look at me, weary and old beyond his years, “And some people are dying of cancer,” he said matter-of-factly.
I don’t believe he was feeling sorry for himself as much as he was reminding me to keep perspective. Though his words stung, I have not forgotten their meaning or the stark contrast of the moment as he was looking at losing the race of his life.
Dad was a traditionalist, which I found to be both annoying and endearing at the same time. He loved history and books, and was a true patriot, having served in the Navy during the Korean War. No surprise that he loved to play the record, and sing along to The Battle Hymn of the Republic! He had a good and strong voice.
On our family last outing, we went off to a local café to pick up some lunch to go. As we pulled into a parking spot, dad turned from the passenger seat to face me and my siblings. “I’m sorry this is happening to you,” he said. For a moment nobody moved as his words sunk in. Like any parent would, I’m sure he felt there was so much left unfinished. In retrospect, I think he was very brave and I’d like to think I learned how to be courageous too.
In the nearly thirty years since, my father’s wisdom has informed my own life experiences in a way that time and distant memory could not erase. If I could, I would tell him, “Not to worry, Dad, lessons learned.” - A Father's Day Message from Katie
Flying the Coop
by Miracle Chasers on 05/19/12
In 1988 Gene and I cashed in our limited nest egg and set off to start a new life leaving Las Vegas for Northern California. At the time, I was five months pregnant with our daughter, Alyssa. As moving day approached, my back, which had sustained numerous fractures after the birth of our son, David, started sending shooting pains down my leg. “Bed Rest” the doctor ordered. I laughed out loud at him, wondering what bed he could possibly have in mind as mine was at that moment being loaded onto an 18-wheeler headed west. He said he understood and wondered how could I be moving now with my maternal nesting instincts in high gear.
I recently reflected on these conversations as I went back to Las Vegas this March for Miracle Chase book events and reconnected with the friends who have held a special place in my heart for so long. Over the years, Gene and I moved again several times and each time I recreated a new nest (though fortunately not while pregnant), an oasis for our family to grow and our friends to visit.
One spring, at our home north of Boston, a mother robin took up residence in the window box outside of our mudroom and each day I would check on her progress as she feathered her nest in preparation for the new arrivals. Over the next several weeks, I watched as she patiently sat with her baby birds leaving only with a squawk of warning as she went off to gather food. Later as the baby birds flew off, I watched as the nest was abandoned.
With the upcoming high school graduation of our youngest son, Gregory, and with his college choice some 3000 miles away from our home, all of a sudden, like Katie and Meb before me, I will have the experience of the proverbial empty nest. As I reflect on what that will mean, I realize most of all it’s a time of transition, one of life’s BIG events. I am excited about this change. And I know I need to take time to recognize the significance of this moment; it’s an opportunity to begin the next chapter of my life with a new slate - and I do mean new, no way am I cleaning the old slate, there is too much life experience written there to ever erase! I am reminded of Robert Frost’s line, “But I have promises to keep/And miles to go before I sleep…” I will be busy, just traveling to the east coast to visit our three children and numerous family members could be a full time job, but rediscovering those promises to myself and continuing to write and research, not only miracles, but friendship as well seems to be what my next calling entails. A new friend shared a quote from Wendell Berry that challenges me, “The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.” This is my goal for the next year to let the song that comes from my nest be one of wonder, of engagement and joyfulness…
Unlike the mother robin, whose nest was abandoned and I think probably forgotten, I will strive to rule my roost in a new and thoughtful way, hoping that over the years my adult children and their families will return like the swallows to Capistrano feeling nourished and secure knowing they have been loved. Joan
Spring Forward
by Miracle Chasers on 04/21/12
Hope is the first thing that enters into a relationship,
And it is the last thing to leave. -Orna Walters
This thought hit me square in the heart. Since my divorce, each time I meet someone interesting and new there is the hope that this person could be my Soulmate. Each new job I take seems like it will be the perfect one for me. Each new gym I join is going to be the one that helps me transform my body. Hope even shows up in my gardening experiences. Every time I plant another seed I am aware of how I hope.
When I start something new, I put effort into it, provide fertile ground, and the nurturing and attention I think is needed to bring it to fruition. I put my heart into my effort, hoping one day my venture will grow into a beautiful experience that will make me and others happy. But as we all know, that’s not always how things turn out. This Spring, I planted some nice bulbs hoping for daffodils and I ended up with bright yellow flowers filled with snail snacking holes. I ended a three year relationship, not even as friends. And yet, I wake up each day, and continue to hope that next time I plant daffodils, I’ll be smarter about the snails and the next time I begin a relationship, I’ll be smarter about my boundaries and all will be better. When we start something new, a garden, a relationship, a job, a diet, we don’t always know what will happen but we hope for the best. If we didn’t have hope, would we even try?
If Hope is in part caught up with the future, Faith seems to exist right here in the present. Faith is what enters into a relationship with the Divine. To have Faith in the Divine assumes a belief that is not based on proof or my own imagination. When I pray for something or someone in particular, I hope for the outcome I can imagine, but my Faith in the Divine requires me to trust that God will answer me with this request or something yet unknown and better for me. Faith requires me to put my heart into doing my part to make things happen, to nurture the ground on which my request rests. I do not ask for miracles without being willing to put effort in from my own side of the equation; but there is another side to the equation—God’s side. A relationship built on Hope is human and has limits based on what I think and know. The relationship I have with the Divine exists in the realm of Faith and is enduring. God will not toss me over for another woman or into the compost heap because I am a little wilted, or lay me off when the budget gets too tight. God will never leave me. God is with me for the long haul and on my side for the duration.
And it is exactly this Faith that gives me the bedrock I need to leap forward into my next best future where I hope to be a better version of myself. As Thomas Merton said, “You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with courage, faith and hope.”
So armed with Miracle Courage, this Spring, let’s take Hope, ground it in Faith, and spring forward – facing whatever life's challenges, adventures and new beginnings come our way, knowing that God holds us all in the palm of her hand. Meb
Miracle Madness
by Miracle Chasers on 03/20/12
I usually think of miracles in the more
traditional sense - as extraordinary circumstances that invoke the Divine
Presence in some way. We Miracle
Chasers define a miracle as "...a sign of divine intervention
in the world that creates an unfolding and beneficial connection between God
and humankind." Yet, the idea of Miracle
in our daily lexicon may or may not have anything to do with God, whether we
are referencing a jet that lands on the Hudson River, or an impossible win in
sports. (I’m pretty sure God doesn’t play sports, and if He did, I don’t think
He’d pick sides.) That said, even in the narrower traditional sense of
miracles, I figure God can always use help. Like Meb says, “Sometimes miracles
happen when we show up as ourselves and do what we can, when we can and the
world is made a better place…”
In honor of Women’s History Month,
I’ve been intrigued anew by women who did what they could, with the tools
available to them, to make the world a better place. The must see documentary, Pray The Devil Back to Hell, tells
the story of Leymah Gbowee, one of three Liberian women to win the Nobel Peace
Prize in 2011, and her leadership of a peaceful movement that became
instrumental in ending the civil war there. Though women were marginalized
citizens, she managed to unite Christian and Muslim women together in such
numbers they could not be ignored; at first an annoyance, they became
increasingly creative in their methods and relentless in their demands for
peace. As Mahatma Ghandi said, "In a gentle way you can shake the
world."
I recently read a book about the
friendship between Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony and learned that
the change they hoped to see, the passing of an Amendment giving women the
right to vote, happened many years after they both had died. Progress was
agonizingly slow, made one small step at a time, but they somehow persevered,
not only for women’s rights, but as staunch abolitionists and civil rights
activists too, dedicating their lives for future generations.
To be able to move mountains
"in a gentle way" astounds me, especially when done with blinders on.
None of these women could see around the next corner or know with any certainty
that what they did today would lead to what they hoped to accomplish. Even
though their culture and the times they lived in were stacked high against
them, they refused to give in or back down: superhuman, miraculous courage,
with an assist from elsewhere. Miracle Madness...
I'm drawn to these stories because I
do believe women can address the ills of the world, if given even the most
minimal of tools. Never mind what those of us with so much more to work with
could do. Lady Gaga, who unveiled her Born This Way Foundation last month,
found a way to leverage her considerable star power to help counteract the
terrible scourge of bullying in schools. Drawing on her own horrendous
experiences at the hands of bullies throughout her childhood, she intends to
use her voice for good. As she commented, "I have a voice in the universe,"
(one with zillions of Twitter followers, I might add.)
Perhaps a miracle can be seen as a
divine thread that weaves its way through our lives and is manifested when we
seize an opportunity to “do what we can” in our own sphere of influence,
however big or small. It beats waiting around for a thunderbolt from the sky. Katie
