redemption story

the truth is, we are all living a redemption story–
in any given moment we can change direction
make choices that take us on another path completely
rewrite our story
change up the cast of characters
have a set change and cull the props

at any point on our path
we can chart another course
and turn this life around
such that what was born of the dark times
can shine such beautiful light
eventually,
one day

and what was broken and caused all the pain
can lead others to the light, to beauty
and towards their own redemption story

all of us have that chance
for atonement and healing hearts,
as long we are on this journey
and putting one foot in front of the other
it is not too late

there always exists the choice
for small, great things
that can leave an imprint on the hearts and minds
of history
changing the course for all of us
if only we are strong and speak in truth
with courage
celebrating joy and leaving beauty marks in our wake

we are all living out our stories
it is for us to make it a good one

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be strong, true, joy / Walk in the Light / the story is always redemption

Note:  As I was making this picture with the Latin words, I used an on-line translator, as it’s been just a few years since my last Latin class.  To double check my translation, I reversed the process and learned the truest interpretation of the words here.  The one that made my the most joy-filled, the most hopeful is the last one.  Instead of saying “The redemption story is always possible,” it interpreted it to read, “The story is always redemption.”  So much hope there.  For all of us.  Love to all.  

another year older

another year older
older but wiser
none the worse for wear

I don’t know about that
I’m older for sure
but not necessarily wiser
I’ve just spent the better part of the past forty-seven years
watching and taking notes
at what happens when certain choices are made
and so if that’s wise, then so be it
but I just call it noticing and paying attention
and listening to what Mama and Daddy said

and I’m for sure worse for the wear
my mirror doesn’t lie and anyone who says
different might need to have their eyes checked
I’ve grown to appreciate the scars though
as they show that I can heal, come back from the wounds
of this life
and the cracks allow the most beautiful light to shine through
and to change how I see things
rose-colored glasses have nothing on a soul that’s been
broken and still carries on

tonight I got a message from a friend in another country
on another continent
that warmed my heart
and made me smile
it’s already the day there
and in other places it won’t be for quite some time

that sort of puts it all into perspective
another year older
but really it’s just another day
another day to get more right than I do wrong
to try once more to put the pieces back together
and paint a beautiful memory for the ones I love to
look back on and remember

another day to act like the person I was raised to be
and honor those who brought me up
all these years
and still surround me with the love they did
from my very first breath and before

another day to breathe out kindness
and banish hate from my vocabulary
and from the tone I use
and the way I see the world

another day to live out my story
intertwined with all of yours
a good story
one that is filled with laughter and love and
meaning and
forgiveness and
grace

another year older
another day to live
“let us rejoice and be glad in it”

The Sweet Sound of Lighter Notes

So one evening after a long day of discussing hard things over the phone and through messaging, Aub, away at college, sent me this message, referring to some specialty lemonade I’d picked up on sale recently and sent up for her to try:

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That made me smile.  Yes.  Lemonade.  Sweet and sour.  A perfect balance between the two.  And one of her favorites.

And then this exchange followed–

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Wow.  That is truth.  Sometimes the simple things, the little things, even those we might call petty can be beautiful.  In the moments they give us to breathe.  To step away from the hard things we face every day.  To simply, if only for a minute, be.

Lighter notes.  Filled with grace.  A sweet, sweet melody.

As we were closing our conversation, I thanked Aub for that thought, because I felt pretty sure that the next day and all it entailed would “stink.”  And then I followed with, “Sorry, God.”

I mean, if each day is a gift from the Creator, I’m sure the last thing the One who is giving wants to hear from the one who is receiving is, “I’m sure this is going to stink.”

And then my girl gave me even more grace.

“The Holy Spirit is present even in the little stuff and the stinky stuff so I’m sure God forgives you.”  

When did this little one whom I brought into the world almost twenty years ago become so wise?  How did THAT even happen?

Tonight I’m thankful for those words that I so needed to hear that came from the mouth of one I love so much.  I’m thankful that things like lemonade can bring joy and light in the midst of turmoil and change and hard stuff.  It makes me happy that I can go from discussing real and serious things to sharing happy thoughts with this one who makes my heart glad.

May you all have someone to share “lighter notes” with and to remind you of the beauty in the pettiness and that God is always there, even in the hard stuff.  That’s so easy to forget, y’all.

Love and light to all.

“This Is Not Your Week”

So my friend who isn’t Shirley found out there was going to be a conflict on the day of our daughters’ dance recital.  Her son, who plays baseball, had a tournament scheduled for that same day.  Smack dab in the middle of the recital time.  For those of you who have children or know children or were a child, you can imagine how hard this is for a parent.  How do you choose which one to attend?  How do you make sure the other child gets where he or she needs to be?  How do you keep everyone fairly happy, feeling loved, and still stay sane?

It’s hard.

And all of these things and the logistics for the day were running through my friend’s head when she first told me about the conflict two weeks out.  The girls had a makeup dance class two days later.  As we sat down to visit, she told me, “Yeah, this girl at work asked me if I’d figured out what we’re going to do on that Saturday.  I just put my hand up and told her, ‘Nope.  Stop.  This is not your week.'”

If y’all could have seen the determination on her face–I laughed of course, as did she.  She pointed out she had a whole lot of other things on her plate before she could even begin thinking about the following weekend and its conflicts.  So she refused to worry about something that far out.

Good for her.

And, as it turned out, the tournament was cancelled, and all of the worrying that didn’t happen (and the little that did) would have been for naught.

Good for you, Shirley.  You kept breathing.

Tonight I’m thankful for this wise and witty friend of mine who keeps me laughing and inspires me and teaches me a lot about peace.  And about letting things roll off my back.  She’s good at the whole peace thing–despite all that life throws at her. (Which is a lot.)  And I think the key to that peace might just be the fact that she prioritizes and has good boundaries.  She’s not going to let that ol’ devil Anxiety steal her revival.  She is smiling just about all of the time.  Really smiling.

I want some of that.

May we all learn how to throw up our hands and tell the worrying and all the stressing out over things, “This is not your week.”  So many times I have worried over things and situations that never came to fruition.  May we all learn to let that go, and in doing that, may our hearts be lighter and our smiles a little brighter.

Go tell whatever’s worrying your future, “This is not your week.”  You’ve got better things think about.

Love to all.

Words of Wisdom Waiting To Be Found

This evening we had the joy and honor of attending a service in the brand new Pierce Chapel at my alma mater, Wesleyan College.

This was only the second service to be held there.  It was quite lovely.  The music whirled and echoed throughout the hallowed hall, and it was beautiful.  The words encouraging us to be the hands and feet and eyes and ears of the One who taught us best how to love were empowering and challenging all at the same time.  Instead of foot washing, we washed each other’s hands.  It was a precious moment when our Princess grabbed my arm and said, “Mama, I want to wash your hands.”

Oh my heart.

Such a lovely service during this week of weeks.  I am thankful for the invitation and that our own Wesleyanne welcomed us coming and being a part of what is now her home, her alma mater.  It means the world to me that she doesn’t turn her head and wish we weren’t there.  She could, you know.  She’s nineteen, so it could go with the territory.  But instead she seems glad to see us.  Again, my heart is full to bustin’.

What I enjoyed most I think was realizing something.  As we wandered through quietly before the service began, reading the plates on the back of the seats (Cooter: Are ALL of these seats reserved?!), I looked down and realized that wisdom can be found most anywhere, if only one is looking.

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A legacy of wisdom: “Keep your blood pressure down and your chin up.” –Morris Beller

 

Out of all the chairs and the dedications and memorials–there is, tucked amongst them, this tidbit of wisdom.  I laughed a little (quietly of course) and gave thanks for Mr. Beller and his wise words of truth.  I don’t know him, but I find it wonderfully fun and delightful to find these words in the midst of all the others.

Very cool.

Tonight I leave you with these images of the long-dreamed of and much-anticipated Pierce Chapel.  Welcome.  And may you stand tall and remind ALL who enter that dreams can and do come true.  In time.  And may ALL who want to enter always be welcomed.  And loved.

Love to all.

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A view of Pierce Chapel from the loggia when we visited for the Party on the Green Sunday evening. Beautiful, isn’t she?

 

Pierce Chapel shining brightly when Cooter and I attended "Ain't I a Woman" two weeks ago.

Pierce Chapel shining brightly when Cooter and I attended “Ain’t I a Woman” two weeks ago.

And one more shot, simply because I love it.

And one more shot, simply because I love it.

 

Best Advice for Graduates…..and everyone else

I’ve listened to a lot of graduation addresses.  I’ve even given one once many moons ago.  Last year I contemplated how different that would have been if I were to write it now.

But now, now I have heard very possibly the best advice ever given in one of these speeches.  For graduates.  For all of us.

And it was offered by the salutatorian, Divine Francis, of Veterans High School, one of the local schools here in our county.

First Divine said that he didn’t know the secret of success.  He said if he did, he’d have already written the book and made a million dollars and retired to the Bahamas…..basically, not be HERE.  Then he described a movie.

“What if I told you there was a new movie coming out, two hours long, of watching paint dry?  And that if you paid the admission price, you could sit there and watch paint dry for two hours, up there on the big screen?”  He paused.  “You’d probably shake your head at me and ask, ‘Divine, why would I want to do that? Why would I want to waste two hours of my life doing that?  That’s dumb!'”

“But what if it’s the night before finals and you decide to go to a party instead of studying.  That’s just as dumb. I say, ‘Why would you want to do that?'”

“And I think that’s the best thing we can do as we go forth.  Don’t do dumb things.  That’s it.  Don’t do dumb things.”

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Y’all I’ve never been crazy about that word.  But I have to tell you this.  I clapped.  As did so many who heard the words of this still seventeen year old–“I have a late birthday.”  That pretty much wraps it up, doesn’t it?

In whatever you’re about to do, don’t waste your time on poor choices–instead make the effort to do the smart thing, the right thing.

Truth.  From a graduate about to set out on a new path.

I think he’s going places.

Y’all too?

Tonight I’m thankful for a young man who stepped outside the box and didn’t give the traditional speech filled with sentimentality and inspirational quotes and challenges to make every moment count–I’m thankful for his keeping it real and sharing simple wisdom and truth.

Love and an overabundance of wise choices to all.

 

 

Truth from The Middle

It’s a show I haven’t really sat down and gotten to know very well.  I’ve only caught it in passing, usually when I was focused on something else.  Sometimes I do that.  Have a show playing in the background.  I can be comfortable with silence sometimes, but then others not so much.  Which is what happened one evening.  “The Middle” was playing.

I hope to find it streaming somewhere because I’d like to watch it from the beginning I think.  I like Patricia Heaton, who plays the Mom, Frankie.  Of the Heck family.  You gotta love it.  And she tends to narrate from what I’ve seen so far, which is an interesting and not at all off-putting way of presenting their stories.  One night that I was actually paying attention to the show, at the end, Frankie shared this bit of wisdom:

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It struck a chord with me that evening, so I wrote it down.  And tonight I can say, unequivocably, this is the truth.

I find myself, when I did the internal emotional check like I do, that I’m okay.  Maybe even more than okay.

And as I did this check, I heard the littles in the background, giggling over something together.  Getting along.  Happy with their place in life at this moment.  My big girl came in and cheerfully said good night, smelling fresh and shower clean.  The windows have been open all day, fresh air is filling our lungs and good things are filling our hearts.  And my sick one is on the mend, with (oh please don’t let me put this out there and have it mess things up) no signs of anyone else catching the bug.  Good evening, happy children=happy Mama.

I think Frankie’s right–if any one of mine were less than happy, as has been the case on more evenings than I care to count, I wouldn’t be very happy myself.

Tonight I’m thankful for the sounds of simple joy and happiness in my home.  I’m thankful for shows that make the effort to share wise thoughts every now and again.  And most of all, I’m thankful for the peace in our home as the night settles in, the birds quiet down and frogs tune up their instruments.  Quite the symphony, and it makes me smile.

Love to all.

If the House is Quiet and the Brit-coms Aren’t On, Then…..

It’s Saturday night.  The house is finally quiet.  I went in search of my Brit-coms on PBS, but instead a concert was playing.  Missing the Brit-coms made me think about my favorites– “Keeping Up Appearances” and “As Time Goes By” among others.  Thinking about “As Time Goes By” made me think about their brilliant cast, which then made me think about Dame Judi Dench. (I’m living out my own version of “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” here.)   I remembered a quote I’d read from her several months ago:

The more I do,

the more

frightened I get.

But that is

essential.

Otherwise why

would I go on

doing it?

–Dame Judi Dench

Not only is she a talented actress, she is also a very wise woman.

So I decided to look up more words from this woman who seems so familiar to me, after years of spending Saturday nights together.

And I found this one.

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Wow.

Be careful what you seek.  You just might find it.

She shot that arrow right through my heart.  As though she’d been reading my mind.

Because, you see, I do this.  I build bridges left and right in my mind and cross all of them, testing them for security and comfort and safety, not trusting what they will be like on the other side unless I check them out.  Way in advance.  Well before I reach the bridges.  And most of those bridges are only in my mind.  I will never have to cross them in “real life.”  This is how I know Anxiety Girl* is back for a visit–you know, my friend who is able to leap to the worst conclusions in a single bound?  Yeah, her.

What would it look like if I didn’t cross any bridges until I came up on them?  There’s a fine line between being carefree and careless, between being over-prepared and without a clue…..these fine lines elude me.  I usually wind up over-prepared (for things that don’t happen), over-stressed (over things I am anticipating will happen), and over-worked mentally (trying to get all my plans together–plans I NEVER HAVE TO USE).  I wish I could no kidding (and sorry if you start hearing the Frozen theme song here) “let it go.”  All of it.  And try taking life–the joys and heartaches and adventures and rainy, sleepy afternoons–as it comes.  Whenever and however it comes.

Unfortunately, I learned the fine art of script-writing my life many moons ago, and it is a hard thing to stop.  But I’m trying.  I wish there were a twelve step group for those of us addicted to being prepared.  I’m not meaning to be facetious here, and I don’t mean to offend those with more serious life-threatening addictions.  I recognize it’s a minor one in the whole scheme of things, but it can be somewhat debilitating.  I feel like a catcher always in position who doesn’t know which way the ball is coming from, so I’m constantly spinning and watching for it from all directions.

Which isn’t really possible.

And now that I’ve exhausted and mixed metaphors like I do, I want you to know–if you struggle with the “what if’s” and “I’ve got to be ready for anything” and “what is coming next?,”  you are not alone.  There are several of us.  And one moment at a time, maybe we can overcome.  Being prepared is not a bad thing.  It’s just the being prepared for anything and everything that could potentially, might possibly happen–that, not so much.

I’m going to try to let go and only worry about bridges that I can actually see up ahead.  It’s a waste of time and energy to do otherwise, right?

*sigh*

I really wish the Brit-coms had been on tonight.  Would have made for a less exhausting evening.

Love to all.

*created by artist Natalie Dee of www.nataliedee.com

Broken Pieces and the Beauty of the Big Picture

Ah the chaos that Tuesday brings.  Once again.

And also the joy.

Today was Sister Circle day again.  We have become quite the group.  What started out as “let me offer paper and markers so folks can doodle while we talk” has turned into an art and talk and share and help each other session.

Love it.

When I got there and was inviting folks to come in and join us, one lady laid her hand on my arm and asked, “Are you doing the beads today? Making jewelry?”  (We made bracelets and necklaces with beads last week.)

“Oh, I’m sorry, ” I replied, “but no.  We’re not.”

She looked so sad, but when I mentioned we were going to gather and do something else, her whole face lit up.  One of our other new regulars asked her to come.  I was ecstatic.

We had several of our regulars in attendance, but T and K were not there, which again, worried me.  Relationships can be tough in any circumstance, but when you are vulnerable and in need, they can be particularly hard.  I hope they are okay.

Today we talked about the eighth principle of Magdalene from “Find Your Way Home: Words from the Street, Wisdom from the Heart” by Rev. Becca Stevens.  “Let God sort it all out.”

The phrase alone brought nods and sounds of agreement from this group of beautiful and strong women I sat with today.  We talked about how hard it is to let go.  To wait.  To sit back and NOT try to make things happen on our own.  Somehow the conversation shifted into talking about the mindset of our culture–“I want it and I want it now.”  Fast food, waiting “too long” in a grocery store or Wal-Mart line.  The words “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should” came out.  That one really hit home with me.  Needs versus wants–we talked a lot about that one and how confusing it is.  Hard stuff.

And yet so good.

In preparation for our art pieces, we took strips of construction paper and tore them into bits, focusing on tearing up the things that we had a hard time letting go of–thoughts, control, words, pain, emotions, memories, darkness, sadness, brokenness.  As we tore, we tried to really think about letting go of these things that had such a hold on us.

I even tried NOT to tear them evenly and consistently.  Really trying to improve my inner artist and work my way outside of the lines.

I really did try NOT to tear them evenly and consistently. I AM trying to improve my inner artist and work my way outside of the lines. *sigh*  There’s always next time.

We then glued our pieces together in a mosaic.  The idea is that we have all these little broken pieces in our life, and that is hard because we can’t see the big picture sometimes.  But there is One who can see it, and it is beautiful.  Broken pieces and all.

I designed a boat with my pieces.  I had it sailing on dark waters, reminding me I do actually have to leave the safety of the harbor to get anywhere or do anything.  My boat was extra big because there are people who will travel with me on whatever journey I’m on, and that is a comfort and something I need to remember, especially when the seas are stormy.

I love what came out of my sweet sisters’ minds and hearts and worked its way onto paper.  As we created, we talked and laughed and shared.  A beautiful time.

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N is definitely an artist.  She loves portraits.  When we worked with watercolors, she painted a portrait of me, which touched my heart and made me cry.  This is a mosaic of a man.  She is a very quiet, introspective soul, so it was an honor to hear her share about her work.

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B cracked me up.  As she tore her pieces, she chatted away.  “I’m not tearing mine small.  Y’all sure are tearing yours small.  I like this big.  Anyone going to tell me mine’s don’t look good?  Cause I like ’em big like this.”  I love that her pieces were bright and vivid and bold, because that is every bit who she is.  When she shared she talked about how these were her baby girl’s favorite colors, and she was making this for her.  B plans to put this on her refrigerator, as soon as she gets her “some of those things that hold them on.”  I’d smell a future project, but I don’t want to leave out those without a refrigerator or a home.  We’ll see.  I love B’s chattiness and teasing nature with these women whom she has come to know so well.

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When G shared about her mosaic, she said, “My life used to be all red, black, and blue, but now I have sunshine in my life.”  (She added the orange after she shared, almost as an afterthought, so I didn’t get to ask what that color represented.)  G went to art school for a while, so she enjoys the art in a different way.  She has a lot of pain and brokenness in her past, and I hope she was able to let a tiny bit go when she shared today. As she moved the little pieces this way and that, she said, “I just have to give it all to God and let the pieces fall where they may.”  I love that.  It is her piece in a nutshell.  Letting go. A little bit at a time.  Healing is a lifelong process, I am afraid.

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My friend, sweet P.  She is a helper.  She drives several of these ladies where they need to be, including our Sister Circle.  A quiet leader of sorts.  I wondered where she was going as she tore, but I really love her story.  Each “block” stands for a holiday and the colors are coordinating with each one.  From top left–Thanksgiving, Easter, New Year’s with all the fireworks and confetti–so colorful, Valentine’s with the pink and red, Christmas and Christmas again, and then 4th of July.  P said these are the happiest times for her as she and her family gather together many times, but especially for the holidays.  Her love of her family is evident.  I wonder if she’s the oldest–she seems to have the protective Mama Bear posture about her.  And that is one of the things I love about her.  (And it’s not just because when we talked about this, she said I did NOT look old enough to be a grandmother. Love. Her.)

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Speaking of family, this is R’s work.  She is a part of P’s family.  Here she made a mosaic of a home with sunshine and clouds above, grass all around and a door–that is open.  Open to family and friends and whoever needs to come in.  She shared that if she had to choose one word to live by it would be “share.”  Wow.  That blew me away.  She talked about being in recovery for six years now (You Go, Miss R!) and how she has come so far from those days, and yet she has to fight it every single day of her life.  “When I was in the darkness and the brokenness, I was into everything.  But now I’m into light.”  Oh. My.  Land.  Bless her.  She has a voice with important things to say.  It is an honor to hear her share.  She talked about having peace now, and how “did you know, some folks don’t even have peace?”  B answered, “Uh huh, I want me one.”  I just love these women, every single one.  It moved me to tears when R talked about how much fear had taken from her all those years.  Like she wasn’t even really alive.  Amen, sister friend, amen.

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Miss A was the last one to share.  My new friend.  The one who had taken my arm and was so excited to come and be a part of our group.  She was so timid in the beginning, unsure if I had a certain way or certain thing I wanted her to create.  No ma’am, I assured her, you do it just how you want and it’s yours to take with you.  She smiled at that and worked so diligently.  She said that all of these colors reminded her of nature and that made her happy.  We talked about how we are made in the image of a Creator and so that means that there is an artist inside each of us–we’d shared this a couple of weeks back.  I love that her picture reminds us of that, and I adore her pieces and their lack of uniformity.  It is imperfectly perfect.  I hope she continues to find joy in it.  As she left she asked me if we would be back tomorrow.  “No, next Tuesday.”  She nodded and smiled broadly.  “I’ll be here.  I sure will.”  So thankful for her stepping away from her safe harbor and joining us today.

Today with these bold and beautiful and precious women, I sat and was enthralled.  With their stories, with the assuredness that comes from being broken but not torn, from hurt but not anger, from love not hatred.  They amaze me, and I find myself looking forward to next Tuesday, to hear what wisdom will float through the room, looking for a place to land, in the midst of laughter and Black Cherry Cola and art supplies.

Glitter.  Someone asked for glitter today.  Oh my sweet sister friends, you outshine glitter by a thousandfold with your endearing smiles and resilient spirits and your willingness to share–fried chicken, napkins, glue, and advice.  I love you.  And because of that, you shall have your glitter.  But it can never be as beautiful as that which you sprinkled on my soul today.  Thank you.

Does the Mayor Know About This?

Official seal of City of Macon

Official seal of City of Macon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Last Tuesday was election day in Macon.  There were signs all over for the Mayoral race.  Pretty heated I think, with a former mayor running against the current mayor, with several others thrown in to keep things really interesting.  And all of this being beside the point, as I don’t live or vote in Bibb County.

However, as we drove on election day from the more affluent side of Macon to the destitute visage of downtown, I guess our Princess noticed the signs and asked some questions.  Like, what were the signs for? (election) What does a mayor do? (help run the city) She knew about voting because both she and her brother joined me during the last election I voted in.

Finally she asked, as we headed toward Daybreak for our time with our Sister Circle, “Mama, does the Mayor even know about all the people who are homeless?  All the ones who don’t have enough to eat?  Does he even care?  Does he want to help them?”

Bless her.

These questions were asked with such imperative sincerity that it made me just about cry.  She struggles with the idea that people could be without homes, even after three years of hearing their stories and getting close to people in these circumstances…..she still can’t understand why.  When she sees empty houses, she is convinced that is the solution.  All those for sale out here where we live?  That could solve the problem.

I listened to her questions and told her we could talk to our friend who helps run the programs at Daybreak to see if she thought the Mayor knew.  Then I asked her if she would talk to the Mayor and tell him if he didn’t already know.  She was reticent at first, but I believe she would.  She feels just that strongly.

Before the Sunday night suppers we volunteered with joined up with Daybreak, it was known as “Come to the Fountain.”  My littles know that, as there have been a few occasions where we gathered downtown to serve dessert and coffee on Thanksgiving or breakfast at Christmas.  But I don’t know if they knew the story of why it was moved to Central City Park before Daybreak was built.  This afternoon on our way home from Sister Circle and Daybreak, they started asking me about it.  I told them the truth as I knew it.  That some of the downtown businesses would rather not have folks who are in need, as our friends are, hanging around where their potential customers could see them.

Oh the beauty of innocent indignation!  “What?” our Princess asked.  “Are you kidding me?  Does the Mayor know about this?”

I love her.

I love that she thinks that one person in charge can make a difference and would even want to.  I love that she is on her way to being a champion for those who, for whatever reason, can’t or don’t have a voice.  She can be such sunshine and joy in our lives, but when she gets her mind and heart stuck on something, she’s much like a teething puppy grabbing one’s pants leg.  Ahem.  She just won’t let go.  She genuinely cares and her heart is troubled.  She is not going to stand by and let things just happen.  Not if she knows it’s not right.  She’s a lot like her big sister in that respect.  I am so thankful and scared to death to be raising these strong women.

I really don’t want to mess this up.  I want to do the right thing for her.  I want her to know she is being heard–that her voice matters, even at her age.  Her thoughts are important, and I want her problem-solving skills to continue to grow.  I wonder how much longer I will let these questions go on before I make a call to the Mayor’s office and set up an appointment.  And I wonder how he will respond to the advice and thoughts and suggestions of an almost nine year old.

Eh, he’s probably had worst advisors.

Just sayin’.

Folks, y’all go and let your voice be heard.  About things that really matter.  And take some time to listen to the voices of those around you.  It’s going to take all of us getting mighty creative to straighten this mess out.  As we talked about in our Sister Circle today, the seventh principle about living gracefully in community is, as written by the Magdalene women of Thistle Farms, “Make a small change, see the big difference.”

It doesn’t matter how small, whether nearly 9 or 19 or 97–all voices matter.  And can make the change the world so craves and needs.  It all starts with listening.

The 7th principle of living gracefully in community from the women of Magdalene of Thistle Farms.  www.thistlefarms.org

The 7th principle of living gracefully in community from the women of Magdalene of Thistle Farms. http://www.thistlefarms.org