HEALING THINGS
I grew up in Kansas City on the site of an abandoned hunting lodge. In the long, hot, sticky summer, Daddy designed and built our home while his little girl scoured the landscape for left-behind treasures—rusted spurs, cartridge shells, weathered barn wood. As I ran through the fields honing my hunter-gatherer skills, timber framing sprouted up like corn stalks from the Midwest landscape to reveal one of the first mid century modern homes in a countryside renowned for its farmhouses.
I recall even at such a young age how proud I was of my daddy for rooting his family in the experience of building something, for showing us what a dream and determination could Yield.
His dream included these towering windows in my bedroom that soared into the trees. By day I imagined the treehouses we would build. At night, when the fever would rise from one of my chronic ear infections, I would hear the branches scraping on the glass and I imagined giant cats scratching to come in.
In the morning after checking on me multiple times through the dark, Mama would gather me up, place me in a cool bath, then wrap me in a warm towel and prop me in a chair with hot Dr. Pepper and lemon while she remade my bed—clean sheets, soft blanket, fluffed pillows, and a turn-down inviting us both back in for a snuggle.
After all these years, every single time I change my sheets, Jacqueline is right there. The way she loved was in the details. The way I healed was in the details.
Our humanity, the most beautiful bits of it, is discovered in the rituals of the every day— our putting on cozy slippers, pouring coffee, making beds. The things my mama did for me were consistent with who she was…a Place-maker. Through every fold of the sheet, every tuck of the corner, I took in, breathed in, the endless blessing of a thought-through moment.
What do you “think through?” I ask because awareness is the difference between ritual and routine.
we go through the motions without thinking things all the way through. in doing so we are so often caught off guard when the hard seasons arrive. Sometimes the best plan for an unknown future includes looking deep into the rituals of the past.
In fascinating ways I have come to look forward to the days that are more difficult than others. These are the hours when the rituals have become not only necessary but deeply cherished—I feel Jackie’s hands on the pillows right there with mine and I am reminded, even in my weakness, that my hands are as capable of caring for myself as they are for others. For those of us who are ‘other-focused’ this revelation is profound.
Isn’t it curious how we have such a hard time making peace with our vulnerability and in the process have become more superficial, even with ourselves?
When we devalue the hard moment, when we are unwilling or unable to pour a cup of tea and sit with the truth, we miss our chance, our benevolent moment to get microscopically close to how extraordinarily complex we really are. The things we learn about ourselves, not from the fighting through but leaning in, are not only useful in the moment but intended to be the very tools that pull us through the harder moments yet to come.
I don’t believe the mama who tucked me into bed would ever have imagined that someday I would be bald. But I know there would have been nothing that could have stopped her from speaking words of encouragement as she stroked my head.
How we love should never be defined by our own comfort zone but in the willingness to lay down our inhibitions to bring comfort to someone in need.
Mistletoe injections, IV-c infusions, hyperbaric chambers, chemo…and the rest. My life has become an endless dance of Healing Things and I am trying my best to take it all in. Yet, as cutting edge as the therapies might be, they are anchored in the sweet rituals as small and seemingly incidental as breath.
HEALING THINGS
Spend some time uncovering the little things that are most nurturing to you.
Think about the last time you gave yourself permission to rest.
Make a list of five items you own that most-embody comfort.
Admit what you are “not ready for.” Determine why you are avoiding it. Make peace with it.
Recall the rituals from your childhood that can be integrated into your life to bring healing today.
Carve out a corner of your home that allows you to quietly surrender from the demands.
ELEMENTS OF THE HEALING PLACE
[expanded in the next journal entry]
Retreat
Introspection
Calm
Nurture
Inspiration
Purpose
Communion