Wednesday, December 4, 2013

A Texting Thanksgiving




Hey kids, I am working on a new column and I would like your help.
 Over the next ten days, will you please text daily something you 
are thankful for. Would like to see what happens!
 Love you four, mom

            When my kids were young, our bedtime ritual included recalling our blessings of that day. It was a time to reflect and be thankful. Life was unhurried, maybe not always peaceful, but the flow of our days begged to be taken slowly.
            Now that they are in their teens, I find it is harder to create family time.  Bedtime has evolved. Sometimes it is a prayer and a backrub, but mostly, as their needs and expressions change, our nightly moment consists of a quick hug as “sweet dreams” float through the almost closed door.
           I miss exploring their personal feelings before bedtime. For months, I debated on how to bring this intimacy back. Could it be done around the dinner table? Yes, that is a tradition-honored time, but it is a challenge to gather daily with their busy schedules and my eldest son lives far away.
            Time slipped away while I brainstormed. Finally, I came upon a modern day solution:  We would text one another what we were thankful for each day.
            I began with a group text to my four children. I asked them to participate in an experiment over a span of ten days. I wanted us to connect everyday with one event, idea, or epiphany that we appreciated. Would they join me in this endeavor to see what would happen?
            Ok, my sons texted back quickly, but my daughter, always a bit more discerning, wanted to know why we were group texting like this. My eldest son, ever the big brother, reminded her that group texting was the point of the exercise. She responded with an Ohhh haha, I didn’t even read the first text.  Then she added, I’m thankful for my life, my family and my health. We were off to a start, maybe a simplistic one, but a start, nevertheless.
            By day four, the texts were specific as we were thankful for our furry friends, baseball, good food and a “gret” school. We chuckled at the spelling error in the same quote as good education. I saw glimpses of their personalities. I asked my thirteen-year-old son William what he thought of our texts. He said that he didn’t mind and it was actually good. He liked having to focus and come up with a specific thing.
            Day five went with only my text. I sent another text on day six. I feel sad that our Thanksgiving text is petering out. Any particular reason?
            William, the easy going one, immediately texted back. I’m thankful for mom keeping us in line and always checking in on us all the time.
            The other three chimed in with thanksgivings of music, technology, living in a place of peace and family support. Day six ended with a fulfilling tone.
             On day ten, as I considered our interactions, I realized I had gained more than expected. On some days, all of my kids responded.  On other days, only one or two.  In the end, it didn’t matter that they had participated occasionally. The bond was there regardless, and when they did share, it was powerful.
            I will continue to send my daily thanksgivings. My words and feelings positively impact my mood and encourage my kids. In our busy world, every thread, even text messages, keeps us linked. 


Monday, November 18, 2013

Bring Your calabash


            Sometimes in travel, I feel God’s presence in the moment. Other times, I see it through reflection. But both happened to me in Okurase, Ghana during a mission trip with medical students from MUSC and pharmacy students from Albany, New York.  We had different reasons for being there, but we all found a joy in feeding hungry children.

            Hundreds of children- tots to teens- sat quietly as they waited for a free breakfast of porridge with a splash of condensed milk, bread, and a sachet of clean water. They were asked to bring a calbash (a bowl), but half of them came empty handed. We quickly found plastic bags, which were messy to fill and burned our fingers. We were determined to give every child a meal so we took turns scooping the hot porridge and tying the bags.
  
As I wiped away tears flowing down my face, I made a promise. Next year every child will have a bowl. I didn’t know how this would be accomplished. All I knew was my desire to help these people obtain the necessities of life- clean water, food, and a small plastic bowl.


The lyrics of a song we learned upon arriving in Okurase,   Ghana ran through my mind as the scene played out.

Everybody, everybody
Bring your calbash
Bring your calbash
Everybody should bring along their calabash
We are going to eat porridge


            The Holy Spirit's presence encouraged my family to travel to Africa to be God's hands and feet. He created a passion to share our good fortune in a way that blessed others. Mission trips are important because when we work side by side with new friends, amazing accomplishments happen. Time allows for a greater impact to our lives and spiritual growth.
            Water Missions, a company based in the Charleston area, whose mission is to bring safe sustainable water systems to remote areas all over the world, found a well site while we were there. Fundraising has begun. Until then, the villagers continue to drink from water contaminated by human and animal waste. This process takes many years of community and international resources. Now I appreciate the water that flows through my house- water I can drink from the faucet.
            Where was the Spirit of God in this covered open-air market that provides the villagers a place to gather? His presence was in the hope these kids feel for a better future, where people care about them.  He was in my tears and my promise. He was present in the students who traveled far distances to bring health care to people who otherwise would go without. He was in our faces as we served hot porridge and love. A beautiful new understanding grew between our two cultures. Language barriers couldn’t stop the connections made with smiles.

         
      Inspired by her visit, my 15-year-old daughter, Annie wants to do something. She has a mission. Can it be OUR mission? Can each of us reach out to one other and make a significant difference whether it’s locally or internationally. The place doesn’t matter. God can work through us anywhere. Do you want to join us?



             If you need suggestions, email me. I will send you a list of possibilities. If you know of a reputable nonprofit organization that needs our help, let me know and they will be added to the list.  We don’t need to go far to find neighbors in the lowcountry that need a helping hand. Together we can change the world one person at a time.



Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The necessity of visiting Elmina Castle, Ivory Coast, Africa




Standing in the dark claustrophobic space, my heart breaks. African men died in this tiny room in the Castle Elmina on the Coast of Ghana.  Their struggle for freedom ended tragically. The idea of such brutality inflicted by one group against another overwhelms me.  

The Portuguese built Elmina Castle along the West African Coast in 1482. Sao Jorge da Mina (Saint George’s of the Mine) began as a trade settlement, specializing in gold and ivory.  Later, El Mina became an important stop in the Atlantic slave trade. The Dutch seized the castle in 1637 and continued the lucrative slave trade. During the 18th century, 30,000 men and woman walked through the Door of No Return each year. Many died on the passage. The Dutch ended this practice in 1814 and the Gold Coast was transferred to the British Empire in 1872. In 1952, the Gold Coast became independent and declared Elmina castle a historic world site under UNESCO.

For centuries, African tribes enslaved captives from war, often selling them to foreign slavers who treated them like bartered goods, only caring whether they lived or died by the financial gain or loss they would experience. The plaque next to the Door of Death reads, In Everlasting Memory of the Anguish of Our Ancestors. May those who died rest in peace. May those who return find their roots. May Humanity never again perpetrate such injustice against humanity. We, the living vow to uphold this. Against the walls are wreaths left behind by family members who come here to honor the dead and mourn their tragic loss. In forgetting, history will repeat itself and as fellow humans, we must stand up to injustice wherever and whenever we see it.

I walk down the long lightless corridor to the Door of No Return. Sunlight streams through the narrow opening at the end of the tunnel. I image proud African men and women pushed past the door, through the harbor and into the slave ships waiting to transport them on the Middle Passage to the Americas.

As a part of our medical mission trip, we toured Elmina Castle, a white washed three-story castle located at the end of a sandy point. Our first full day in Ghana was spent traveling four hours to visit the historical site. Some medical students from MUSC and College of Charleston undergraduates joined my children and me in this pilgrimage. We came together to offer health care to a poverty stricken area. Okurase was our final destination, but to understand the history of slavery in West Africa and its ties to the Charleston area, we visited this emotionally painful site.


The dungeons consisted of numerous cells, each of which housed up to two hundred people at a time. A ship would come by every two months. With the anticipation of its arrival, slaves were packed into the cells without room to lie down. Illnesses, especially malaria and yellow fever were a common occurrence. Hundreds of thousands of slaves shared these close quarters even before the appalling accommodations on the ships bound for the Americas.

The topic of slavery is not new to my children or me. Stories of planatations worked by slaves of West African descent are common here. For me, touring the castle makes the cruelty and brutality of slavery palpable. When asked, my fifteen-year-old daughter Annie says, “There is nothing as powerful as standing in a place you studied in school and feel the emotion welling up. You can’t get that in a book. It changes you.”

Near the birthplace of many of South Carolina slaves, in dank places where the walls still echo with anguish and grief, families were separated, never to be reunited. As I reflect on my time there, I am still uncomfortable with the sadness that remains in those stones. In the presence of my children, I am encouraged that a new generation will begin to feel the outrage and sadness. My hope is that each of us continues to fight injustice in our lifetime. Only by passing on these painful lessons will our world become a better place for us all.  


Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Solitude in the Face of Fear


    White mist hovers over the lake as the sun breaks through the morning horizon. Leaves, starting to appear on the limbs of the trees that hug the shore, give proof of spring. Soon my clear view of the blue water will be replaced by green. The temperature is cool with a hint of warmth that will arrive later in the day. The fresh mountain air begins to revive me as I sit on the deck with a cup of hot tea.
     I come to this cabin to escape my life. I am physically isolated and it symbolizes the bigger picture of being alone in the world. As an extravert, I don’t “ do alone” well, but I am determined to learn. My life has made a drastic turn and I am working hard to keep up. I fear this loneliness. I have conquered my past fears and I believe this one can be overcome as well.
     Years ago, a quote caught my eye Go towards your fears, for that is where you will grow. I grew up afraid of heights so at the age of 20, I parachuted out of a Cessna single engine plane. Another time, I dogsledded in Alaska to get over my aversion to cold weather. I spent two nights on the Yukon trail at 20 below. When my glass of wine became slushy, I knew that nothing would ever be that cold again.
     I decided to tackle this new situation in the same way, head-on. I rented a mountain cabin in Cashiers for a year. When my kids are with their father for a week a month, I seek peace in this isolated retreat. I force myself to spend days in seclusion. I knew I could find solitude, the joy of being alone. The unexpected gift is a profoundly deeper relationship with God. He shows up in amazing ways, just when I need him the most. I begin to read, meditate, and take long hikes with my dog Oscar. God speaks to me through the space that is often filled with busyness. His presence surrounds me and I begin to write. His thoughts inspire me and guide my fingers across the page. I began to see the blessings of my broken-heart. I open myself to Him and He honors my vulnerability.
    Studying Jesus’s life and how He often withdrew to be with His Father, I realize that retreat is vital to deepening a relationship with our Creator. It is challenging to find space, but absolutely necessary for growth. If Jesus needed frequent time with Our Father, then how much more do I need?  While being in the quiet, I receive clarity and the big picture is revealed. By Jesus’s example, I have found a way to connect and this knowledge encourages me.
     Running towards my fear was a success. Since those early weeks in the mountains, I’ve traveled to Europe on my own. Traveling with companions is still my first choice and I frequently make trips with my kids and friends, though I see the value of solitary travel where life is experienced in unique ways. And the bonus: God shows up every time.





                 






                    This Cabin on Lake Glenville, 
                       near Cashiers,  North Carolina
                             was my refuge for a year. 
                        A place to heal and a place filled 
                      with many memories 
                     that I will cherish always. 

             


Friday, May 3, 2013

Embracing the Beauty of Silence


What started as a pause in our conversation, extended into silence. The distance between us felt as far as our phones were apart. I counted the seconds from my friend’s last word. Every part of me wanted to jump into the empty space. As an extrovert, I felt uncomfortable with what seemed like an awkward silence. Usually, I would take this as either a cue to say something or bring the conversation to a close.  Practicing what I had learned in a three-day communication skills training class, I tried patience for a change. As it turned out, it was not an awkward silence. I gave him time to reflect and in turn say something meaningful to me. Had I spoken up, neither of us would have gained from this level of insight and intimacy.  A smile crept onto my face. I could not believe it. For the first time, I was learning the beauty of silence. After this experience, I began to listen better with my kids and anyone who came into my path, be it on the phone or in person; a dear friend or a new acquaintance.
            Silence is not only the absence of sound, but also the presence of an inner stillness if we are open to it. To truly listen, we must concentrate on what is being said and not on formulating a response. It is giving the other person total attention. It is quieting our mind.
In reflecting on the discovery of the importance of being quiet, I realized that I was filling the silence during my time with God. I often aimlessly chattered. From my lessons on listening, I saw that I was talking, not communicating; rambling, not connecting. God gave me many clues in the Bible and in my life, but I could not hear them over my own voice.
We can not hear God’s voice until we learn to be still. Psalms 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God”, tells us what it takes to know Him. His presence is always around, but in failing to develop the skill of blocking out the many distractions of our modern world and our incessant thoughts, we are unable to hear Him. Many times, instead of a great wind or a thundering crash, He comes in a whisper. He wants an intimate relationship where we are close enough to hear His soft voice. Then we can find bliss in having God in our still heart. Reading the Bible shows us examples. Grace gives us the patience to wait on Him and the strength to act when we hear. In obedience, we develop an assurance that allows us to step out in faith. With grace, patience, confidence and strength, we intuitively know when He speaks and can humbly listen.
God is inviting you to listen. Can you hear Him? I pray that you and I find stillness as we walk in His presence.