Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Relationships

January 31, 2017

Scent of Hospitality

graham-crackers-and-milk

I used to think hospitality meant planning a big splashy event. Dinner to prepare or goodies to bake and have ready to go. With, of course, the scent of baked goodies or aromatic spices hanging in the air.

The house had to be sparkling clean in every corner. And smell clean, too! As for the hostess—that would be me—she, too, had to look and smell spiffy.

It isn’t that I’m not into social niceties anymore. It’s just that I’m older. Less energy. Less time to waste on dusting every nook and cranny. Or making sure the kitty litter isn’t fouling up the air.

If you drop by today I’m happy to make do with whatever’s in the cupboard, plus tea or coffee or water. All pretty cheap props in return for lively conversation with friends, neighbors or even strangers.

But now I’ve gone and done it. Decided to have a teeny tiny children’s tea for our neighbors and their young twins. A little boy and a little girl. You’d think I was totally out of my league, given my consternation about what to do.

I keep telling myself all I need to do is have some graham crackers, grapes and something to drink handy. Relax, Elouise. This isn’t a big deal—even though it is.

Still, though I’m a bit anxious, I can’t wait! I think our young guests will quickly set the agenda.

If things lag, there are at least a dozen mysterious boxes in our living room. Small, decorative boxes. Different shapes and sizes. Full of cheap trinkets I’ve picked up here and there. The kind of things young children love to discover.

And children’s books! Scores of them are here and there, waiting to be picked up. Maybe even read out loud.

Besides, my lovely piano stands ready for anyone to play. And then there’s Smudge, our people-friendly kitty. Or, should all else fail, D and I, in our second childhood!

Seriously, I had no idea how daunting this great idea of mine would feel. After decades of working with adults, and with our grandchildren now grownup teenagers, I’ve forgotten how easy it is to be with young children. Especially in our interesting and somewhat eccentric house.

In the larger picture of my life, getting started is always the most difficult part of all. From then on, it’s usually a great if not glorious adventure. The simple kind that puts all of life in perspective, no matter how bleak the weather or how grim the headlines.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 January 2017
Image found at vintagevapejuice.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Scent

13 Comments
January 30, 2017

Interrupt and Replace

I woke up this morning feeling down, weary and discouraged. ‘Dis-couraged.’ An interesting word. It means I had courage ‘back there,’ and now I perceive a deficit. How can this be?

If I go back to my childhood and teenage years, I know when dis-couragement happened and why I need to attend to it, lest I lose my voice or become an enabler.

As a young girl I knew when the flames started licking around my legs, weakening my focus and my courage. Back then I persistently carried focus and courage into every punishing situation inflicted upon me. First by my father, and later by men with power to inflict punishment on me as a professional. It’s called bully behavior.

One gift of being a childhood survivor with PTSD is the ability to feel when certain dynamics are in the air. Dynamics neither we nor the person in control are necessarily able to change.

The behavior we’ve seen thus far from our new president is the behavior we’ll most likely see for the next years of his tenure. We already saw it in the presidential election cycle. Nothing has changed except this: the power of the office of President of the United States of America now protects him.

So here I am today, feeling dis-couraged by the events of this past week.

What can I do to change things? I can’t change or replace him. Nor can I change or replace myself.

Back to my father. As a child I was powerless. There was no way I could replace him with a different father. Nor could I interrupt his agenda for me. Especially when he determined I needed to be punished.

I’m an adult now. I’ve done my homework. I’ve learned not just to interrupt and replace the internal voices that mess with me, but the voice of my father talking about himself. He died in 2010.

Now there’s Mr. Trump. I want to interrupt him. The presidency isn’t all about him. Nor is it a platform for bully-talk toward and about others. One painful example will do: his language and behavior toward women who are, apparently, there to serve the desires of his heart.

So how can I do my bit to interrupt Mr. Trump’s monologue and replace it with contrasting voices? Not in debate form, but as a proactive, fearless way to change the conversation, the topic, and the outcomes. The Women’s March is an example of other mass interruptions that changed the topic, the political conversation, and the outcomes.

I want to be part of a movement to interrupt political bully talk and replace it with dialogues that make a difference. I’d love to hear what you’re thinking about. Or how your courage is holding up.

Thanks for listening!

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 January 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Replacement

12 Comments
January 27, 2017

Dear God | Unfiltered

I wrote this last night, and am letting it go in this post as my next small step in this Trump presidency era. I’ve changed nothing, and have added one small explanatory note about one of the words I use. Even though you may not be a Christian or agree with me about our situation, please read it. It’s to God, and it’s also from my heart to your heart.

Dear God,
I don’t know where or how to start praying for our country or myself or my family and friends or our supposed leader. I feel at a loss.

I think most of all I want to affirm over and over that You are my Leader. My One and Only Leader who made each of us and this world that seems to be falling apart. You are my eyes, my ears, my mouth. I know this isn’t true of me now, but I want to see, listen and speak in ways that honor you as my Most High God. The only One to whom I owe total allegiance. I read that focusing on You is the best way to deal with what’s going on all around me right now. I’m not sure how that works, but I’d rather look to You than to anyone else right now.

I don’t feel abandoned. I do feel uneasy, uncertain, somewhat caught off guard—even though the warning signs were all there. Mr. Trump is not a trustworthy leader, yet I’m supposed to pray for him and for the good of our nation. Well, I’m not sure what that would look like, so I’m not sure how to pray in that way.

If I could say You’re on my side (and against others), that might feel a bit easier. But You’re for everyone, though not without discrimination* regarding our hearts. So tonight I just want to bring you my heart for safekeeping while I sleep. I pray that I’ll be honest and unblinking about reality, without becoming cynical or giving up. Or even making it all about how awful DT is.

DT does not define reality. You do. Your eyes see with utmost clarity all things. I can only count on that, though I wish I could experience it. So in this strange reality that doesn’t feel like reality at all, I pray that I’ll remain faithful to you and to my family and to the people you bring into my life. We’re all lost and weary and confused. Devious and proud. In many ways, DT is a larger than life version of each of us in these difficult and even shocking days.

What good can come of this? I don’t know. I’m putting it in front of You, though, because You see all and know all before it ever comes to pass.

Thy kingdom come—on earth as it is in heaven. Give me grace, strength and boldness to follow Your son Jesus who has gone before us to show us the way. Not the correct way, but the way to worship and honor You above all others. No matter what the cost.

I pray that You will clarify for me, or lead me to next steps I can take to be Your faithful beloved daughter child. A clear and listening witness to these troubled times.

I pray in Jesus’ name,
Amen

*Discrimination: recognition and understanding of differences – a good thing, in this context

*****

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 January 2017
Written in my journal before going to bed on Thursday, Jan. 27, 2017
My contribution to today’s WordPress Daily Prompt: Filter

21 Comments
January 22, 2017

Riding the Storm

william-cowper-quote-i-seem-forsaken

Following President Trump’s inaugural address yesterday, I toyed with the idea of writing a letter and posting it. It would have gone something like this:

Dear World,
The new President of the USA does not speak for me. Please don’t judge me or my neighbors harshly because we’re from the USA. You and I have gotten along quite well so far. In fact, I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. I’d like to think I’ve contributed a bit to your life, as well.

If you’re reading this, I know you won’t treat me poorly because I’m from the USA. Still, a cold chill went up my spine when I heard President Trump’s angry determination to put America first. And last, it seems, since there weren’t any other countries that came in second or even third.

Thank you for your friendship and hospitality. I sincerely trust this ‘new’ approach to the rest of the world won’t stop us from welcoming each other and working together on things that matter for all of us.

Sincerely,
Elouise

So I didn’t post this letter. Instead, I’m thinking about the storm of uncertainty, confusion, disillusionment, anger and fear that surround Trump’s presidency. Where do I stand? How do I keep my footing? Especially since I don’t know where the storm is going.

Ever since the presidential election results were announced, I’ve thought about William Cowper (‘Cooper’). He was a poet and hymn writer from Britain. Born in 1731; died in 1800. His life was filled with hard times such as the death of his mother and most of his siblings, bullying at school, and his father’s refusal to allow him to marry his sweetheart who happened to be his cousin.

As an adult Cowper struggled with deep depression and manic episodes. He attempted suicide on several occasions, was put in an institution and declared insane. He was also a prolific writer of hymns, poetry and occasional prose.

Two stanzas of one of his hymns, possibly the last he wrote, keep going through my mind. In the hymn a fierce storm rages. Surprisingly, God doesn’t calm the storm; God uses it to do something else. Something mysterious.

In order to do this, God steps smack into the middle of the storm and rides it like a chariot. This could be Cowper’s personal storm or our personal storms. It could also be our current political storm, with its global implications.

Cowper’s words help focus me. They’re also calming, reassuring and challenging. We haven’t been left to our own devices.

Here are the stanzas I’ve been thinking about and singing to myself. You’ll find all stanzas here.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm. . . .

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

c 1770

William Cowper, published by John Newton in Twenty-six Letters on Religious Subjects, 1774

Without ignoring the storm, Cowper’s hymn invites me to focus on what God is going to do. Not without, but by way of the storm. Blessings will fall. Not on a calm sea, but in the midst of stormy adversity. A sweet flower will bloom from what seems to be a bitter bud.

My part is to keep the faith so that I can recognize and celebrate the work of our Creator in the midst of what seems a chaotic mess.

Thanks for reading and listening.
Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 January 2017
Quotation found at QuoteHD.com

16 Comments
January 12, 2017

My someday list

My someday list
Of dreams come true
Spreads heavy with its weight
Of years across my life
So many yet so few

What now I wonder wistfully,
Is this what yet remains —
The scattered remnants here and there
Of life and love and mountains scaled
Now fading from my view?

Someday is now my yesterday
Of dreams no longer bright –
The muddled brilliant afterglow
Of memories tucked away in scraps
Sweet pangs of love and life and death

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 January 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Someday

8 Comments
January 10, 2017

The Rift

It isn’t new. It’s older than our nation. It dogs us like the monster it is. Yet we say we don’t see it, or things have gotten better, or it’s the way things were meant to be.

The rift is bolder and more brazen today than at any time in my lifetime. It runs like a fault line beneath everything we say, do, feel and think about in our relationships with each other.

It isn’t the only fault line. And, as I said at the top, it isn’t new. It’s simply in our faces—even though many seem not to see it.

Not seeing it is part of the problem. Sometimes people say to me, ‘Oh—I don’t see gender any more. I just see people!’ How odd.

But this rift isn’t about gender. It’s about something that affects each of us in this country. It doesn’t matter which gender we’re born into, or whether we seek to change our gender or not.

I hear it often these days: ‘Oh—I don’t see color anymore. I’m color-blind!’ As though being blind were the solution. Or even making black or brown one ‘color’ among all the rest.

In this country we have an ill-kept secret. We are racist to the core. I am racist to the core. This is true even though we have varying degrees of consciousness and commitment to rectifying injustices perpetrated on our black neighbors and fellow-citizens.

It didn’t happen yesterday. It happened the moment we began building our nation on the backs of slave labor. Yes, we’ve used white slave labor also, and are still addicted to that. Witness our below-living standard wages in many states and businesses.

But the case of imported slave labor has its own history—which is foundational to our nation’s history. It includes what’s happening today in our school systems, prisons, courts and neighborhoods.

It’s no longer enough to say ‘I’m against racism.’ Or ‘this company, university, state, nation or political party is against racism in all its forms.’

The question is more basic than that: Are we committed in our homes and in our places of business to dismantling racism? Are we engaging our brothers and sisters in conversation, letting them lead us to take strategic action together to replace policies and procedures that enable racism?

This is personal and institutional work. Not an overnight fix, or an easy answer to a survey question. It asks us to stand up and be counted on the side of dismantling racism—not just saying we’re ‘antiracist.’

Eloquent statements or sermons, and ever-so-large protests aren’t working. We seem to be at a stalemate.

In fact, we seem to be going backwards. We’ve developed and largely accepted a devious approach to being color-blind. We lock people up in prisons, restrict them to certain parts of our cities, towns, businesses and school systems, and lower the impact of their votes in state and national elections.

Out of sight, out of mind? An increasingly uneven playing field? This isn’t a proud legacy. It’s a judgment and a strategy against all of us.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 January 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Uneven

8 Comments
January 9, 2017

Shine on!

this-little-light-of-mine-2

Do you remember this old song? It went on forever.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine! ….
Shine all over the neighborhood; I’m gonna let it shine! ….
Shine all over the whole wide world; I’m gonna let it shine! ….
Don’t let Satan blow it out; I’m gonna let it shine! ….
Let it shine ‘til Jesus comes; I’m gonna let it shine! ….

Here, brother
Here, sister
Here’s a little light
Just for you
From me

Who are you?
What do you want?
Did I ask for your help?
Why should I trust you?
Why are you doing this?

Why indeed.

Our little childhood song made it all sound easy. Just shine your little light, Elouise! Small deeds of kindness and compassion. That’s all it takes. Just get out there with your little light and Shine On. Make a difference!

I laugh now—though it isn’t funny at all. In seminary we regularly reminded each other that we weren’t put on this earth as little messiahs. As though we’re sent to make all things new or solve every problem and climb every mountain.

No, we’re mere human beings. Quite wonderful, actually. Just like everyone else. Needy, limited, proud, hungry, beautiful, happy, angry, outraged, duped, out of touch and in denial. Plus a whole lot more.

I’m not against shining our little lights. In fact, I believe it’s the only way we can together make a difference. But there’s the rub.

What does ‘together’ mean? My little childhood song was heavy on each of us doing his or her thing. This usually meant obeying our parents, being nice to people who didn’t treat us nicely, and being sure to tell people about Jesus.

The song also seemed to suggest I should already know what to do when, and would be able to carry it out. Well…not only do I not know what’s best for other people, I often freeze in my boots when it comes to actually doing something.

Hence the need for togetherness. The kind many have experienced in successful 12-step programs. This means meeting regularly with like-minded people, radical surrender to a higher power, and unblinking willingness to face our shortcomings and failures and try again.

No miracles guaranteed. But I’m a witness to the power this way of life has to bring people together. Especially those of us who’ve tried to go it alone and failed, or who live in fear that we’ll be exposed for the failures we believe we are.

Why shine on? Because it lets someone know that you’re there for them, if only for a moment. It also acknowledges your need for others in your life. Not as decorations, but as welcome travel companions—if only for a moment.

That’s what today’s word brought to my mind. That, and the ways you shine in my life.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 January 2017
Image from pinterest.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Shine

11 Comments
January 8, 2017

“Hope” is the thing with feathers —

emily-dickinson-hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-pinterest

Emily’s poem for today is a gem. A gift for anyone who feels distressed about the state of this world or what lies ahead in 2017. My comments follow.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.

c. 1861

Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
 Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995

I hear Emily saying something like this.

  • I can’t manufacture Hope on my own or even with my friends. Sometimes people exhort me to have hope. I can’t. It’s already there. Like a little bird perched in my soul. Singing its heart out nonstop, without words or a sheet of music in front of it. Am I listening?
  • Hope isn’t linked to the time of day or night. Or to the weather and what the outlook is for tomorrow. It’s there regardless of circumstances, singing its ‘tune without the words.’ Sweet, strong, welcome, heartwarming and life affirming.
  • It seems nothing can shame or humiliate this little thing with feathers. It doesn’t shut up and it doesn’t go slinking off in defeat or humiliation. It sings out with sweet clarity, especially when things look most hopeless.
  • Hope keeps our spirits alive, ‘warm’ even in the ‘chillest land.’ It doesn’t offer us a plan of action or a map that will get us through hard times. Neither does it pretend times aren’t hard. Instead, it accompanies us through the hard times, lifting its voice in a way that lifts our spirits.
  • Best of all, Hope is a gift. It doesn’t ask anything of us, even when things get really rough. Not a crumb, not a dime. In fact, should we decide things are hopeless, I think Emily’s little Bird would just keep singing its heart out on our behalf. It doesn’t even demand that we listen.

One more thought. Whatever Hope is, it isn’t denial. In fact, I think Emily’s poem doesn’t work if Hope is supposed to erase or numb reality. Nor is Hope a crutch to get us from here to there with empty smiles pasted on our faces.

I believe Hope can open our eyes to see possibilities precisely where and when we least expect them. Often with people we least expected to meet or invite into our lives. Little Birds have exceptional eyes, not just exceptional songs.

My prayer today is that we’ll listen to Hope and be alert for unexpected possibilities, especially in what seem to be gale-force winds already on the rise.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 January 2017
Image found at pinterest.com

11 Comments
January 4, 2017

Crossings of No Return

Crossings….

The word resonates with finality
Hints of danger and uncertainty
Sorrow and desperation
Weary clothes and
Hungry faces

One foot in front of the other
Backs burdened with life’s necessities
Bodies and bellies heavy
With tomorrow’s children
Silently pleading

They say our world is disappearing
Melting and boiling away before our eyes
Erupting into a chaotic crisis
Unknown in modern times
Are we ready for this crossing?

I can’t help wondering what lies ahead for this world and for us as citizens of this world. Our insular, isolated, boundaried ways of life don’t work well anymore, and our ways of governing seem to have reached their own point of no return.

Years ago I crossed a line of no return. I chose to be a follower of Jesus Christ. I don’t believe there’s a magic wand answer for any of this world’s upheavals. Yet I do believe we see a direction in the life, ministry and death of Jesus Christ. Not the superstar, but the human being sent to this earth to live and to die as one of us and as God’s beloved son.

Jesus made a crossing of no return when he came to live with and among us. He wasn’t president, emperor or chief. Nor was he a privileged member of the religious or political elite, or a child of God immune to human emotions and agony.

His life was short. Yet in his short life I find a direction that hasn’t changed even with our current global upheavals. Taking my cues from Jesus, I’m to love God, my neighbors and myself. Acknowledge my human limitations and need for others. Be ready to accept and offer hospitality from and to strangers. Bear the cost and share the compassion of being a follower of Jesus Christ.

Do I feel strong? Rarely. Do I feel ready? Rarely. Do I feel like giving up? Sometimes. Yet the steady, courageous, compassionate and steel-eyed clarity I see in narratives about Jesus’ life on this earth remains my True North. The one point on my compass that won’t change no matter what it takes to get from here to there.

What does this look like day by day? It’s all in my outlook. Each encounter might become an opportunity to ask for help or to offer help as I’m able and ready to identify myself as a follower of Jesus Christ. Most important, I’m not a savior. I’m another human being who won’t make it in this life on her own.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 January 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Crossing

7 Comments
December 23, 2016

Discovering the Road to….

P1040911

Rita!

Last June I was newly freed of jaw wires, scraping the bottom of my barrel called Energy, frantic to stop my weight loss.

I’m not normally a quick convert to programs described in NYTimes Bestseller Books. But this time I was out of solutions. So I cast myself upon simple yet stringent requirements for Turning My Life Around, as prescribed in one of those NYT BBs.

Every morning, without fail, follow this simple discipline. Read the rest of this entry »

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