93. Another Take On Pennies

In my fourth entry in Things I’ve Learned I wrote about Wayne Dyer and his feelings of abundance when he came upon a penny in the street and picked it up. Just recently I read about Annie Dillard’s take on pennies and how when she was a little girl in Pittsburgh, she used to hide one of her pennies for someone else to find.

I haven’t tried it yet, but I think there’s something about strewing pennies that feels even more extravagant than finding them. So today as I go to lunch with a friend, I’ll drop a few pennies around and imagine someone else finding them.

Annie Dillard finished up her thoughts on the subject by acknowledging that we already live in the midst of free gifts! And so we do.

92. Let It Go #2

Just a couple of days ago I wrote about L.I.G. which stands for Let It Go. And I wrote those words referring to frustration, obsessing, being critical. And I’d like to continue the concept further—a lot further. I’d like to put it into the realm of discipleship.

When Jesus said, “Love your enemy,” ultimately he was also saying that there’s some stuff you’re going to have let go of. And when he said, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” and then gave an example of where the neighbor was someone you usually didn’t even speak to, once again to really do that you’re going to have to let some more stuff go.

What I’m slowly figuring out is that since love is the predominant force that we as disciples are being asked to use, then whenever we come up against all those feelings, emotions, frustrations that are pretty far away from love, we are also being asked to let go of them to make the room within ourselves for love.

Here are the words to a chant I wrote within the last week:

—

Make room for love,

Live life with love,

And when some other enters in

Let go—shake off—strip down,

And breathe in love.

—

© Copyright 2012 by Ann Freeman Price

91. Structure of Dailies

I love creating the structure of dailies—some things that I do every day (or at least almost every day). For a number of years now I have read the Upper Room Disciplines as I eat breakfast. Then I discovered that I could do quite a lot more than that one day book. So at least right now, I have a Guideposts daybook and a Matthew Fox daybook, plus three other books that I just read two pages of and work my way through them. It starts my day with creative ideas.

And actually breakfast doesn’t start my day because I have an hour and a half before breakfast—for some more dailies. About four years ago I started writing “morning pages” as described in The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. This process is to write three hand-written pages every morning—whatever comes to your mind. I don’t do three pages right now because I’m in the middle of a period of time where I am getting up, doing ten exercises, and then sitting back down in bed and using a lap labyrinth, followed by coloring a mandala, followed by a short writing. And this process is blowing my mind. All of them I believe are ways to let my unconscious loose.

I also don’t make myself stick to one of my dailies unless it is working. But I tend to substitute something else instead of giving up entirely. And sometimes I shift because it seems like I’ve worn that out. There was one year that I wrote a shadorma every day with my morning pages and then I shifted into writing a shadorma for each psalm and now I’m writing the psalm shadormas again.

It’s interesting that I used to tell people that I was a night person and definitely not a morning person. Now I find I’m both. I wake up early, sometimes setting the alarm early enough that I can do the labyrinth / mandala / writing before I have to leave for a meeting. It’s a neat way to wake up.

90. L.I.G or Lig

Sometimes phrases help me out. Sometimes they are able to interrupt something that I really don’t want to be doing. And this is one I’m newly adopting. It’s for those times when I am going on and on about something and getting nowhere. It’s for those times when I’m obsessing and repeating myself and I can hear the echo of my own words. Often I am being critical either of others or of myself. I might be alone or I might be with someone else, or even with a group, but I sound like a broken record where the needle on the old victrola just goes back over again and again and again.

The new phrase I’m trying to remember to say to myself is: Lig. And sometimes I have to repeat it in all capital letters: LIG. With two or three exclamation marks!!! If I can break through the words that I’m going on and on about, and if I can hear myself, then I get the message: Let. It. Go.

Plain and simple—quit obsessing, quit moving your mouth Ann and Let It Go.

LIG !!!

89. Grace

It has taken a long time but these are some of my thoughts about “grace.” In some ways I think we are too human to really understand grace; and we are too judgmental to “do” grace. When we are angry with someone, we find it hard to let it go; and consequently when we make major mistakes or minor ones it’s hard to believe that God will let it go.

I believe that grace is God’s presence with me that tells me I can begin again and again and again. I certainly have done that. I have made mistakes and as I talk with God, it is as if God says, “You know, I agree with you Ann, that it’s hard to believe you made that mistake again. But you did—and just like last time you can wipe your slate clean and start again. Because that’s what grace is.” Ultimately when I begin to get it, grace is a way to live. And I take a breath, say “Thank you,” and move on. Ultimately it’s about being restored to wholeness.

In 1996 I wrote a song titled “God’s Grace” and these are the verses:

—

There is a mystery in God’s grace that I cannot grasp,

There is a blessing in God’s grace that I cannot quite believe,

There is a lovingness in God’s grace that I cherish and hold fast

And in the midst of God’s grace I can be whole.

—

There is a wonder in God’s grace that I love to tell,

There is a nonsense in God’s grace that I barely can explain,

There is a simpleness in God’s grace that I cherish and hold fast

And in the midst of God’s grace I can be whole.

—

There is forgiveness in God’s grace that I daily doubt,

There is a presence in God’s grace that I know is with us here,

There is an endlessness in God’s grace that I cherish and hold fast

And in the midst of God’s grace I can be whole.

—

© Copyright 1996 Ann Freeman Price

88. God Promises To Be Enough

I wrote this song as a part of a Vacation Church School curriculum. Later I discovered that two lines in particular spoke to me personally. One is: God is with you each day. So many times I can be rushing or meandering through my day, engrossed with the list of things to do, frustrated with things that are happening or not happening and I lose track completely that God is with me and I am not living this life all alone. The second line is: When you’re tired and things are tough, God still promises to be enough. Whew! That’s some promise and if I allow it, if I let God into the tiredness and the toughness, God comes through every single time. Part of this song tells the story of Peter in prison—part of this song tells the story of me, in my own self-made prison. God helped Peter out—me too.

You’ll recognize the tune as belonging to an African-American spiritual,

—

Hold On

—

Peter thrown in prison chains,

Soldiers guarding him in Herod’s name,

God is with you each day. Hold on.

Hold on. Hold on.

God is with you each day. Hold on.

—

While in prison Peter stayed,

People fervently to God did pray,

God is with you each day. Hold on.

Hold on. Hold on.

God is with you each day. Hold on.

—

Then one night in darkness deep,

Angel came and said, “Just follow me.”

God is with you each day. Hold on.

Hold on. Hold on.

God is with you each day. Hold on.

—

When you’re tired and things are tough,

God still promises to be enough,

God is with you each day. Hold on.

Hold on. Hold on.

God is with you each day. Hold on.

—

© Words copyrght 1997 by Ann Freeman Price

87. Write the Stories Down

I have written down pieces and parts of my life almost all of my eighty years. I think there are many benefits for doing this and it’s one of the reasons that I started a writing group in the fall of 1984. I called it “Writing Down the Stories of Our Lives.” My mother died in the spring of 1984 and one of the things that happened to me then was to realize that with her death, there were stories that immediately vanished. Some of them she told me and I didn’t write them down and after she was gone, I didn’t remember them well enough.

And so I encouraged others to join me in the writing. And they joined for different reasons and to write different things. One couple, older than I, had been asked by their children to write about the different places in the country that they had lived. They warned me that after they did that, they would leave the group. Well they stayed for five years (and hadn’t lived that many places).

They got caught up in it. Our process was that I would introduce some concept or idea, like how to get over writer’s block. Then we would do an instant writing and use some prompt. We would read those writings to each other. And then we would take turns reading what each person had written during the month and had brought to the group to read.

As the couple wrote at home in preparation for the group, and then read at home to each other what they had written, they discovered that even after over 50 years of marriage they still learned things about each other that they hadn’t known before.

Another reason for writing the small stories of our lives down is that many, many years later you can read details that you have forgotten.

I had that experience when I found my written account of my Eighth Grade Graduation Day. I went to School #45 in Indianapolis, Indiana and in those days we went to one school for all eight grades, had a graduation ceremony, and the next September went to highschool for four more grades. I must have written this account just a few days after the graduation so there was wonderful detail—what I wore, who cried and when, what the teachers’ names were—all things that had disappeared from my memory bank. Now none of this was crucial for me to re-discover but it brought back the details of a day that at that time in my life was a significant one. And sometimes you discover something about yourself that is important to know.

Of course it is a real possibility that future generations may discover your writing and be excited about the discovery. We can usually find birth and death dates, burial places sometimes, but it’s harder to find some of the small stories of our ancestors’ lives. So write.

86. Not Giving In to the Stereotype

On July 15th, I mentioned my puppet Josa (a brown sea otter) that I used in the nursing home and in clowning. She has taught me some lessons in being adventurous. One day I had used her at the nursing home and she was on the passenger seat of my car. On my lunch hour I stopped to go in the bank. I parked the car and sat there, looking at Josa and saying to myself “Now why would you take her into the bank?”

Myself answered, “Why not?”

I picked her up, thinking “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

I thought of nothing except being asked to leave and decided that if that happened, I could deal with it. I opened the car door, with Josa again settled on my shoulder.

I had not noticed the large Mac Truck parked in the street. Just then there emerged from the bank the stereotypical truck driver. He strode toward me as I stood by the car holding Josa, with Josa looking around.

I thought “Oh boy—here comes someone who will not appreciate this puppet.”

He caught sight of her and his stride broke, his demeanor changed, he visibly softened. As he came close to me, he reached out his hand gently to pet her and said, “Oh, how wonderful. She’s just grand.”

Josa nuzzled his hand and cocked her head to look at him. He grinned at her and at me, nodding knowingly, and repeated, “How wonderful. You both are just grand!”

Now this is about a puppet and a truck driver and the parking lot of a bank. However, I run into the broader issue of stereotypes in other situations, and it’s often true that when I make up my mind ahead of time, quite often I’m wrong.

85. We Are Many – We Are One

This is the latest song I have written. It seems appropriate for September 11th to me because in this decade since the tragedy happened we have grown in divisiveness, become involved in two wars, and moved farther away from peace. My song is about many things. It’s about being one, all of us in the world. It’s about not being hateful to anyone for any reason—race, culture, religion, sexual orientation. It’s about continuing in the process of healing and consequently of loving.

—

We are many – we are one,

Sisters, brothers, daughters and sons,

We are different – we are same,

Each one called by sacred name.

—

How did it happen, Who planted fear?

Who drove the wedge that made some think

it could not be — so clear — that

—

We are many – we are one,

Sisters, brothers, daughters and sons,

We are different – we are same,

Each one called by sacred name.

—

Just keep on loving – And gentle be,

Keep circle open to make the room

for everyone — to see — that

—

We are many – we are one,

Sisters, brothers, daughters and sons,

We are different – we are same,

Each one called by sacred name.

—

© Copyright 2012 by Ann Freeman Price

84. Stay in the Present

Have you ever seen that magnet that says:

Yesterday is the past.

Tomorrow is the future.

Today is a gift—

That’s why it’s called the present.

I confess I can’t do it all the time—I stew over yesterdays, and I worry about the future; and sometimes I seem to live my life from event to event (as soon as I get past that day then I can relax).

I also found a vivid example of the magnet when I worked in nursing homes. Grown children would come in with their Mom and be busy telling me about this that she had done or what kind of person she was just three months ago. And they spent time lamenting this aging thing that had happened to her.

I listened and heard their stories. I didn’t know their mother as she used to be; I knew her as she was when she entered the nursing home. When I could find a time and space to talk with the family more, I would often try to say, “You know, your Mom is delightful right now. I know you’ve seen tremendous change in her, but when you can, meet her where she is right now, and enjoy her there.” What I recognized and didn’t say to them was that it could change again in a few months or in a year and I hoped they wouldn’t regret that they didn’t enjoy her now.

It’s not just about aging, or about nursing homes. It’s about living and staying in the present. What I want to do as much as I can is to be in the here and now, relish it, grapple with its problems, delight in its excitements, even feel its sorrows—so that when tomorrow comes I will live in that time as the present that it will be then.