Floating 101

When I was little, we were members of a neighborhood pool. We went almost everyday during the summer to play and swim. As soon as I was big enough to learn I took swimming lessons...you know so I could finally go into the deep end ;). It was such a big deal to be able to go into all of the sections of pool, but it took some effort. You had to earn the privilege of swimming in the deep end and jumping off the diving board.

I remember learning to swim was a series of kicking, floating, doggie paddling, and putting those things together to move in the water, which some people like to refer to as “swimming.” I really loved my lessons until we got to floating. I just wasn't sure about it. I mean how was I gonna be able to float? What if I sunk under the water? It just didn't make sense to let go of the edge or my teacher to float in the water. I was scared of what it would feel like to be untethered. To be moving with the water without giving input into the direction I would go. I remember totally freaking out! I didn't trust it and almost decided to give up because I couldn't imagine how this floating thing would actually work. I wanted to be able to skip it and was a little miffed that I had to to learn it anyway...what did my teacher know about swimming? Swimming was about getting some place in the water...people didn't need to know how to not go places in the water! But I stuck it out since I really wanted to be able to go to the deep end. I can certainly see now that I was a little over-zealous about my knowledge and experience...

For a little background...I like to go fast, to see things change, and to hold some semblance of control over my environment. I am pretty sure that has been the case forever and the 4 year old me...struggled with floating for the same reasons that I do now when life calls for a time of letting the current carry me. My natural desire is to be in control. To know where I am going and to be in charge of getting there. But the thing about swimming in the deep end that my teacher knew and I did not was that sometimes we aren't able to swim; the current my be moving too quickly, you might be too tired, or you might just want to enjoy a few moments of sky gazing. As a child I didn't know that part of learning to swim was being equipped to survive in the water when swimming wasn't possible. Thankfully my teacher did know that at different points I would need to float and so she made sure I would know how.

Lately in life it feels like I have been swimming in the deep end. I long ago took lesson on the basics of life and have been practicing. So I dove in and started making some waves...who would have known that living life could be so wonderfully exhausting? I took on the task of getting myself from point A to point B—stopping to play some Marco/Polo and discovering some other people who have a similar direction in mind for themselves. For awhile things were great...but I'd be lying if said I haven't gotten tired. All this swimming has taken a lot of energy but now I am out in the middle of the depths. I am not interested in going back to the edge but I need to take a break before I can continue forward. So I go back to the basics and remember that practice of floating. I can release my grasp...my “control” on the direction I am moving and just be carried for awhile. I can trust the rhythm and current to hold me up while I rest and take in the view.

Even as I write this the idea of letting go seems so appealing but I still struggle to do it. That same feeling I got when I learned how to float in the swimming pool calls forth a stubbornness of wanting to be in charge of where I go and how I get there. The idea of allowing myself to be taken there is frightening and reminds me of my own inability to control everything around me, even when I'm not floating. Even if I kept swimming my hardest at some point I would be so exhausted that I couldn't go forward any more or worse that could be the end of it all. So why not take a moment now to float...to take it all in and gain my bearings? So I stop kicking, stretch out my arms, and turn my head to sky and breath. There isn't anything for me to hold onto but I am held up despite myself and have the time to see the beauty around me which is often obscured as I move through the water with focus and attention on the goal. I am pretty sure that the practice of letting go is one that will always take some effort on my part but each time I loosen my grasp and float I see the wisdom of my old swim teacher. Some times when we are in the deep end all we can do is breath and be held by the current that will give us the rest we need to continue diving deeper into life.

Songs of the Heart

Music has a way of infiltrating our souls...calling out to something deep within us.  It is akin to magic, the ways in which we resonate with one another and God. 

There is quote about friendship that goes something like, "A friend is someone who knows the song of your heart and will sing it to you when you have forgotten the words."  The songs of our hearts are some of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, from those who invite to listen to them.  I am always astounded at the trust that others put in me to hold and learn the songs of their hearts, for I know how hard it has been for me at times to share my own song with another.  It is a frightening thing to let our songs fly forth into the world.  For there are those, who for many different reasons, may squander the gift of the songs we sing.  There are, however, people to whom our song arrives and finds a home.  This gift is indescribable!  How can we begin to understand the ways in which our hearts speak to one another...reason, I'm afraid has yet to explain it.

I think of these songs tonight because I had the opportunity to sing for a friend today--her song of joy and hope.  Reminding me of the times that she too has sung my song to me.  How easily we can lose the rhythm and cadence of our heart-songs for the sake of dreams and worries and doubts and busy-ness...

I wonder at my feeble attempt here to honor the joy and gratitude I feel for those who know my song because I have shared it with them and for those who so desire to know my song that they seek it out.  Sort of like Ariel in "The Little Mermaid," our songs define us, reach out to the ones we love and draw them to us.  As all the songs begin to mingle together there is a new sort of harmony.  A holy choir that sings with such passion and hope that it changes the world simply by being heard. 

When I am not sure of much, which seems to happen an awful lot...I am sure that the songs sang for me and by me are filled with the truth of God's love for all creation.  That God's song reaches out and draws us closer.  As we grow in likeness to God we too begin to sing a song of such powerful and amazing love that it changes us and the world around us. 

Thank you to all those who know my song and sing it when I have forgotten the words.  And thank you to those who entrust to me the holy task of learning to sing your songs. 

Moravian Momma...a story (Part 1)

One gorgeous day last summer a few friends and I sat around a table on an outdoor patio.  We were having a great time watching the traffic and enjoying the food before us.  At one point I told them a story about being out and having someone holla at me from the window of their car.  I was on the phone with my Momma and in the retelling I included that I said, into the phone, "Momma, I just got holla'd at."  As the story ended, the table erupted with laughter..after that had some what subsided, my friend said, "the funniest part of that story is that you referred to yourself in the third person as Momma!"--with that the table went quiet and erupted with laughter again as the rest of us laughed that Lisa had misheard me when I said I was on the phone.  Needless to say, it was a funny day and has continued to shape conversations, picture captions (I believe there is a facebook album of Hot Mommas), and discussions of if what Lisa heard was really so far from reality.  I must admit that I don't usually talk to myself about myself in third person--but if I ever feel inclined I am definitely going to use "Momma."  :)  With every laugh that has resulted over the past year because of this one story telling escapade I marvel at how it has become an identifying and unifying experience for our little gang. 


So I got to thinking about our stories.  The ones we tell, the ways they are heard, how new stories build off the old, and how our identities are shaped and change along with our stories.  There are many layers of truth, hope, sorrow, inspiration,and direction in our stories.  It is in the living, telling, retelling and listening that each of us is invited to shape others' stories and to be shaped by their engagement with our own.  It amazes me that stories from my childhood resonate in my adult life and continue to form me as I integrate the lessons of the past with present experience and the hope of the future.

Recently I have been privileged to have some inspiring conversations with Moravian clergy and friends.  In many denominational circles the conversations of tradition and communal identity are key to understanding the roles we play and the ways we engage with one another and more importantly** the world around us.  Growing up in a Moravian pastor's house left me no chance of getting out of being shaped by the Moravian story...which by the way is far too long for this particular blog post, i would be glad to point you towards further reading if you so desire.  One of the most interesting things about growing up has been living into and through the stories that shaped me, shaping them and starting some new tales along the way.

Like the story telling experience last summer some stories actually show their value when they are misheard or incomplete.  We happen into new ideas that lead us further along the path of discovery.  The beauty of the stories that shape us is only partly in the story itself and partly in the experiences of its telling.  What are your stories?  Who would you like to tell your story too?  What might becoming part of your future story as you live it right now?

Sometimes we are too quick to write the endings of stories before we get a chance  to experience the changes that add laughter, hope and joy as friends add their own marks to who we are and who we are becoming through story and its telling. 

(**author's emphasis and opinion)