Walk slow

Lately, I’ve been hearing the same message in podcasts, songs and other random outlets: Walk slow. Go at God’s pace.

So, what does that mean for me? I’m a competitor at heart, and that often means I’m comparing where I am in life to where others are. I can too easily gauge my success or value on how I stack up against others. And that’s a dangerous game, as it can edge me closer to judgment on one end and self-abasement on the other.

When I hear the words, “Go at God’s pace”, it reminds me I don’t need to be competing with others to reach certain milestones or stages of my life. I’m right where God wants me to be. I should be walking deliberately, following God’s voice.

Today, one of my devotionals spoke on Psalm 23. It can be so easy to barrel through that passage because of its familiarity. But it’s so profound when you stop to carefully read through it.

The Lord is my Shepherd, so I won’t lack for anything. He’ll provide what I need when I need it. I don’t have to scramble around to fend for myself. I don’t need to obsess about what I think I need to thrive, to succeed, to grow.

He leads me along right paths — for His name’s sake. When we follow the direction and plan God has for us, He will use us to bring glory to His name.

A sheep doesn’t rush along its own path (if it does, it’s often lost or moving away from the Shepherd). It deliberately follows after the Shepherd’s voice. With each step, it listens for that voice to guide and direct its next step.

I want to do the same.

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life;
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Article repost from More to Life

I know I haven’t been as active here, but I promise I’m not being idle. To prove it to you, here’s a snippet of a recent article I wrote for More to Life.

“Have you ever had one of those days when you’re feeling all the emotions?

“One evening, as I was walking my dog, I felt my emotions rising to the surface. They had been simmering within me for a while. Disappointment. Discouragement. Worry. Anger.

“I doubted my purpose. I wondered if I was where I was supposed to be. I wondered if God cared.

“Eventually, it got to the point where I couldn’t hold my feelings in any longer. I ended up verbally vomiting out my frustration and anger to God.

“It’s hard enough for me to admit my emotions to myself, and here I was spitting them out to God. The entire time, I was thinking, Oh man, God’s going to be so disappointed with me. I shouldn’t doubt Him. Of course He knows what He’s doing.”

Read the rest of the article here: https://www.moretolifetoday.net/release-it-to-him/

Photographing strangers

The first time I can remember asking a stranger to take their picture was in college. I was working on a photography assignment that focused on colors, and I saw a guy in a green uniform. I walked up to him and asked if I could take his portrait. He said yes.

If it wasn’t for one of my college journalism courses that was unofficially dubbed “Talking to Strangers”, I would have never felt semi-comfortable asking this stranger. I tend to walk a line between introversion and extroversion, and this very clearly crossed a boundary my introverted side did not want to cross. But I did it anyway. The sheer nerves that came preceded a thrill of excitement and accomplishment.

I’ve been doing this ever since. I still feel the nerves and excitement when approaching a stranger, each one with a unique personality and story.

Whenever I travel, I try to take a photo of a stranger at each major location. I don’t pretend to be the most talented photographer, but I have thoroughly enjoyed my journey of photographing strangers and want to share that journey here.

Here are some of the first photos I took of strangers, from my time at UNH.

The first stranger

A skateboarder at UNH

The Knot bouncer

Five Smooth Stones

Last month, my sister wrote a song based on a situation a friend was going through. When she first played it for me, I felt the anointing and the encouragement. I’m thankful I got to be a part of recording it, and I hope you’re blessed.

Five Smooth Stones — written by Becky English and recorded by Becky & Jen

Boston 6.6.20

In this climate of uncertainty and tension, I’ve asked myself, “What can I do? How can I help?” This photo series was my unexpected answer — a way to share the voices of others beyond my own.

These are some of the faces I saw and voices I heard in Boston. Hope mingled with gravitas. Pain heightened by silence. Innocence pointing to change.

Through it all, Boston is resilient. Boston is strong.

Evan: “We need to uplift and support no matter what because that’s how we get where we want to be.”

“It’s hot, and what’s one breeze going to do for a five-hour shift?”

Joni Lee Rossi of Back Bay Staffing Group: #smallbusinessrocksseries

The crew of Boston Board Up: “It’s been a long day… We boarded up a church and a Shake Shack across the street.”

Joe: “Never give up the opportunity to talk with an interesting person… I’ve done my part. It’s up to you guys now.”

Otis Franklin Thompson Jr. with his urban memoir “Crack Under Pressure”

“Now we can officially say we’re male models.”

The new normal

My chest constricts
in a tell-tale sign that I am processing
emotion
and it’s difficult to label
which emotion it is
because I find myself immersed
in a world that exudes
both joy and loss
I see the uplifting stories
where humanity draws together
in support of the greater good
only to be followed by
the onslaught of
negative, overwhelming news
that comes at me nonstop
with no clear certainties
I am rooting for humanity
and all the good we can accomplish
yet I feel such frustration
at those who sow discord and fear
passing judgment
with no willingness to listen to others
We talk about the new normal
but nothing will be normal again
and maybe that’s okay
The lessons we have learned
about resiliency and compassion
sorrow and grit
responsibility and weariness
are anything but usual or expected
and perhaps they were lessons
we didn’t want to learn
But we have a choice now
to give into anxiety and hopelessness
or to focus on the good
to listen and develop
to cherish what we once took for granted
to look forward to what is to come
with hope and expectation
knowing we have something greater ahead

YouTube, say what??

So, my sister and I did a thing, proving this time of self-quarantine and social distancing doesn’t have to be wasted.

This morning, we recorded a cover of “Psalm 23 (I Am Not Alone)” by People & Songs. Then, being the enneagram types 3 and 8 we are, we created a YouTube channel where we could upload the video.

Without further ado, here’s the video. We pray it’s a blessing to you all in these chaotic times.

My thoughts on coronavirus

If you’re like me, you’re working from home, trying to not to overact to the onslaught of news and panic over Tom Brady leaving the Patriots.

Just kidding. Sort of.

In reality, most of us are experiencing a surreal, unprecedented situation of “social distancing” and “self-quarantine”, thanks to the novel coronavirus known as COVID-19. Countries, governments, businesses, venues, parents and individuals have all had to react to this new threat — and some have done this more gracefully than others.

I know countless others have weighed in with best practices for working from home, spiritual advice to fight the fear, or tips on how to wash your hands. But I simply want to relay what I’ve learned in the past few days.

It is well
First and foremost, I have no idea what I would do if I didn’t have the peace and hope that come only from God. Despite all the craziness and fear that is rampant in the world right now, I know I can trust God. Why? How? Because He’s my savior, and He’s never failed me. I’ve been through ups and downs, and through it all I can say, “It is well.”

Keep in touch
I’m blessed with the option to work from home, and I don’t take that for granted. So many others don’t have that option, and it can be scary to face a world with so many unknown variables.

But if you are staying home, it can be a challenge to keep yourself from going stir-crazy. Call your friends. Send a text. Like a dog photo on Instagram. Have a video lunch with your coworkers. I can say from experience that a 30-minute virtual lunch with coworkers will make your day. We’re all in this together, so support one another and be considerate.

Side note: Kudos to all the parents out there, because I know this is so much more difficult for you all. Take advantage of the museums, zoos and aquariums that are offering virtual tours.

Keep a routine
I’m imitating my usual morning routine and being careful to not sleep in just because I work from home. I read my Bible, get changed and make some coffee.

But instead of spending an hour in traffic today, I got to walk around my block in the brisk, sunny morning before “going to work” at my home desk. The birds were chirping, and as my soul was rejuvenated and renewed, I found myself humming “How Great is our God” and thanking Him for another day. That walk was a great start to my day and put me in a fresh, “I can do this” mood.

After work, take another walk. This will help your mind distinguish from the workday and your evening chill time.

Take care of yourself
Do some yoga, pushups and squats. Lift some weights. Eat healthy. Drink water. Stop mindlessly scrolling through social media or reading every news alert. Let your mind take a break from the chaos. Read a book. Write a book. Do Sudoku. Wash your hands. But don’t give in to fear.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. — 2 Timothy 1:7

mindful poetry

Poetry, like the mind, is fluid
It bends and weaves, sneaking its way through a thought
and meandering to the next
But sometimes it lingers and dwells on one thought,
one intriguing or complex or frustrating or hopeful or reluctant idea
that it just cannot let go
because letting go would mean moving on and forgetting it
and this thought is too important or painful or desperate or beautiful to let go
But there, just like that, it is done
it moved on to the next thing
the next thought
the next sentence
the next plan
the next adventure
What would happen if the poetry stopped
if the words lost their meaning
and the thoughts became jibberish
Is my mind poetry
is poetry my mind — captured with words
Poetry, like the mind, is fluid and real.

Peace in the storm

This story starts with a bump. While it could be categorized as a metaphorical bump in the road, this bump is real — small, but real. And it is located in my right breast.

I found the bump on my own and visited my doctor. She believed it was benign, but suggested an ultrasound to be sure. Eventually, I was scheduled for a biopsy.

Facing the possibility of cancer was almost too far-fetched for me to believe. Oddly enough, cancer wasn’t what I was most concerned about. It was the more tangible concept of the upcoming needle biopsy, because I hate needles.

My mind raced with realistic and unrealistic thoughts and scenarios, even in my dreams. Above all, I tried my hardest to push away the sneaking fear and anxiety that threatened to seep into my thoughts. Like my dad said, I had done what was in my control, and worrying wouldn’t change anything.

And he was right. I trusted God, and I knew that He wouldn’t be surprised by the outcome of the biopsy. I might sound naive to some people, but I knew that whatever the diagnosis was, it would be part of my story and I would use it to glorify God.

The day of my biopsy came. My mom and sister drove me to the facility and sat with me in the outer waiting room, supporting me with their presence and prayers. My wonderful biopsy buddies meant more to me than they will ever know.

But they couldn’t go with me into the dimly lit room where I would be having the biopsy. I was on my own.

But I wasn’t alone. Yes, the doctor and nurse were there, and they were both so kind and supportive. More than that, I knew Jesus was with me, in the same beautiful way I had experienced during my ACL surgery years before.

As I lay down on the medical bed, I stared up at a skylight picture they had over one of the ceiling lights. Some might have deemed the image cheesy. To me, it was beautiful. It showed a bright blue sky with vibrant pink cherry blossom branches. And as I looked up at those blossoms, I felt God say to me, “Just like I’ve clothed those flowers, and just as I’ve taken care of the birds that live in the branches, I’ll take care of you.”

I already told you I hate needles. This was a big needle. The doctor walked me through each step as he injected the local anesthesia in three different places, and proceeded to extract four samples of my breast tissue, each extraction punctuated with a loud, forceful clicking sound of the needle. And I was completely at peace the entire time. It wasn’t false bravado. It was the peace of God that passes all understanding.

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)

A few days after the procedure, I received a phone call at work. “I have good news, if you can tell me your birth date.” Oh, I can do that. “It’s completely benign.”

I sighed, laughed and cried with relief, all at the same time, the fears I had repressed evaporating with the news.

I could joke around and say, if anything, this process helped me get over my fear of needles. But, in reality, it accomplished so much more than that. When I’m worried, afraid, doubtful or scared, I remember the moment when I stared at those pink cherry blossoms and felt saturated in God’s peaceful presence.

I am incredibly blessed and grateful, because I know not all stories end up like mine. It can be easy to minimize my situation because the bump turned out to be benign. But that doesn’t devalue the process I went through. It doesn’t negate the very real emotions I experienced. And it doesn’t take away the peace I had in those unsettling moments of waiting in the unknown, in the unspoken what if.

Regardless of what you’re going through, you can rest assured that God is with you. You might feel like your situation is inconsequential to what others are going through, or it might feel immensely overwhelming. Whatever you’re facing, know that you don’t have to be afraid, hopeless or anxious. You can be at peace.

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)