Part of a Miracle

Me & Anne Marie
Me (seated) and my sister

I am praying to be part of a miracle. As a light-hearted 6-year-old, full of joy, imagination, spontaneity, and unbridled love, I trusted in miracles.

By the time I was 7 or 8, my world of innocence was changing drastically. The abusive authority present in my life, on many levels, taught me to be cautious, protective, stifled. I began to write stories to entertain myself, to create safe spaces that I could control. When I turned 9, my world fell apart. I became more distrustful, disillusioned, disenchanted. Less inclined to believe in miracles, confining them to Bible stories.

It took me many years and lots of challenging inner work to recognize and release those internalized abusive voices and unnecessary fears. Little by little I reconnected with that creative, expressive, imaginative, life-giving spirit. As I allowed myself to be more vulnerable, I began to trust. As I opened my heart, I became more willing to feel, more willing to be present to the pain – my own and that of others.

I could envision something new rather than believe the images and illusions I’d been taught. And I began to “see” the miracles again.

miracles-happen2

Through accompanying immigrant families at our southern border, I’ve realized that it’s possible for me to be part of the miracle. By offering compassion, love, mercy, kindness, forgiveness into a situation that may appear overwhelming, I become part of a positive movement in which all things are possible. In a more open-hearted, more life-giving response, the abundance of a loving God is tangible.

It’s true! I’ve witnessed it for myself here in El Paso.

And now we face such a moment in our nation. Something new, more beautiful and unifying, more life-giving for all people is possible. Whether or not this miracle comes into being depends on our response. Mine and yours.

The other day I watched a short video that Insight Meditation Teacher Tara Brach had recommended on Van Jones’ response to racism. Mr. Jones has been entering my radar quite a bit lately, and I’m glad. He’s impressed me with his thoughtful, compassionate, well-balanced, and wise words regarding the divisions in our country and how and why it’s important we come together. This from a man who clearly has experienced and witnessed racism and, from what he’s shared, had to work through much rage during his younger years.

But it was the end of this video that really got to me. A moment when he couldn’t hold it together as he tried to express what this moment unfolding before us means to him. He called it “a great awakening” in which “much more is possible than we dared to hope for,” because something has happened that never happened before: people of all skin colors, all backgrounds, are coming together to speak out against racial injustice. To show they care. Van Jones, this professional, emotionally-mature man, cried as he said, “Somebody killed a black man, and everybody cares. It’s a miracle.”

He wept and I was deeply moved. Moved because I felt the pain of how much he’s been carrying as a black man living in this country trying to work through this maze. Yet I could only feel the fringes of this pain, because as a white woman of privilege, I have not experienced it.

Still, I am certain that my personal experiences of authorities wielding injustices and cruelties, oppressing the vulnerable and victimized, have sensitized me to the oppression of others. What strikes me about Van Jones’ story, and the reality for many others, is that the abusive authorities over black and brown lives are real. Unlike my reality, they’re not part of the past or of someone’s childhood.

They still exist.

Imagining and creating something new, more beautiful and loving, more open-hearted than what we have now requires that we be willing to “see” with new eyes rather than believe the images and myths we’ve been taught. It requires being grounded in the Love that brought us here, sustains us in everything, and exists in all of us.

It also requires letting go of the outcome. Trusting that creating a space imbued with compassion, love, mercy, kindness, forgiveness, and peace will manifest into the miracle that is needed.

I am praying to be part of that miracle.

Thich-Nhat-Hanh2

Desiring the Stars

Hueco Tanks entrance July 2017
Hueco Tanks at dusk

Sometimes you have to go out of your way to see the stars.

The other night a couple of friends and I drove out to Hueco Tanks State Park just outside of El Paso to go stargazing.

Used to be, I’d step out onto my back deck in rural Virginia whenever I wanted to view the stars. Most nights I could see the Milky Way, it was so darn dark out there.

Not anymore. Now I live in a place where the lights never go out.

Sometimes I miss the darkness. And I especially miss the stars.

Light years away, they seem so far from our grasp.

Not unlike our dreams.

Sometimes we desire a thing so badly, yet it feels far out of our reach.

Reaching-for-the-stars

Like reaching for the stars.

Like building a log home in the woods in central Virginia, for example.

A far-away dream of mine, yet almost unbelievably, it came to fruition.  And although my time there seemed short-lived, I know that home served its purpose. It planted the seeds for what would follow. Then I heard guidance ask me to leave that dream behind.

As if that were easy to do.

It reminds me of when I longed to have a child.

For six years I tried unsuccessfully, thinking there must be something more I could do – some other method David and I could try.

During that time, I simultaneously stumbled upon a path that led me on a deeper spiritual journey. One that taught me the meaning of detachment, of detaching from a specific outcome. Of surrendering to a God who is nothing but Love.

Still, when my 36th birthday came along and I was still childless, it was hard not to feel emotional. My mind told me “time was running out.”

I didn’t give up on my desire to have a child. But over the course of a painful journey of being attached to the outcome, I had learned to entrust the desires of my heart to God.

Whatever the result, I could trust the One who had placed the seed of that desire in me. I could trust the truth that “all things work together for good….”

In other words, I had set the intention and learned to let go of my demand for a certain outcome.

Months later I found myself pregnant, and before my 37th birthday, I had a child in my arms.

Now, again I find myself facing a desire to manifest a deeply held dream. One I’m passionate about that involves my writing.

It feels like my desire has been taking a long time to be realized. And yet again, I find myself relearning the lessons of patience and faith as I surrender control.

Because I know that whenever I am clinging to a particular outcome, my ego is still in control. Whenever I am attached to the way “I” think things should turn out, I’m not free. I’m not in the flow.

What are the deepest desires of your heart?

Do your dreams seem like stars out of your reach? Or are you clinging to them, unable to let go?

Here’s what I’d suggest:

Set your sights on the stars. Plant and nurture the seed of your deepest desires. Set your intentions.

Then relinquish the outcome. Open to the flow of creative possibilities.

Entrust the results to your co-Creator.

And watch the stars appear.

Harriet-Tubman_Dreamer Quote