Power to say yes
New to both the town, and the church, Ellen wanted to be involved, to give of herself, to share her gifts. As it happened, the parish needed a new tapestry for one of the smaller chapels.
And as a seamstress, Ellen considered this a perfect opportunity.
She worked diligently, using colorful and delicate fabric, recreating a well-known rendition of Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Others who had seen it were effusive, affirming that what she had created was beautiful.
When the day for the unveiling arrives, Ellen presents her gift with an understandable sense of gratification and fulfillment. The answer from the church committee is unexpected and brief, “We can’t use this.”
And I was wondering, “Because the tapestry was inappropriate or distasteful?” The answer, “Neither”.
“The dimensions of the tapestry,” the committee tells her in a very measured tone, “are not quite correct.”
“We live like ill-taught piano students. We are so afraid of the flub that will get us in dutch, we don’t hear the music, we only play the right notes.” Thank you, Robert Capon.
As Ellen tells me her story, I want to laugh out loud, until I realize that she is serious. And I can feel my exasperation with small-mindedness.
“You’re kidding,” I say. Then, “Ellen, I’m sorry. That must have felt crazy.”
“At first I was completely deflated,” she says. “But some time passed and then it occurred to me; I’m going to be okay. Do you know why? Because I didn’t make the tapestry for them.”
Thank you, Ellen, you did my heart good.
Yes, life can squeeze us.
Yes, people can be harsh, and without mercy.
Yes, public opinion can take the “air out of the room” of our heart.
Yes, the “systems” we regard, can be crippling.
And I can assure you that in her situation, I could have found a way to nurse a grudge. But here’s the deal: If we don’t learn Ellen’s lesson, in the end we become encumbered, because we will cede our identity and our power—which means that we give up our ability to choose, to create, and to be intentional.
We give up our ability to be generous, to be big-hearted, to forgive, and to change.
We give up our ability to make a difference—to let our light shine.
Back to our tendency to not hear “the music”, while nursing our fear of missing the right notes. Meaning, our fear becomes a taskmaster. And it hits me that the “tapestries” I create are no longer about what is in my heart, but about who I need to please, or impress, or even amaze.
“Never allow a person to tell you No
who doesn’t have the power to say Yes.”
Thank you, Eleanor Roosevelt.
Ellen’s affirmation reminded me of something I heard this week, “I went to medical school to learn how to heal.”
Yes. Here is the power and necessity—and gift—of a paradigm shift. With “I choose”, we move from “success” by achievement, to “making a difference” by creating spaces for wellness, and healing.
In a world that squeezes us, it’s easy to “get lost”.
To no longer be—at home—in our own skin.
To, literally, give over our identity. We forget who we are. At our core.
In a national magazine, an ad for the Humane Society minced no words. Above an adorable puppy and kitten, the ad read, “It’s who owns them that makes them important.”
So, I wonder. Who or what owns us, who or what tells us that whatever we have done, or given, is “not enough?”
There have been times this year when I have been pushed, or pulled, toward fatigue, without being conscious of it. In those places, I know that I felt empty, in a place where it is easy to believe the whole world is colored by gloom.
And this I know: When we are given over to fear, we cannot rest, or absorb, or create, or take delight. And it is easy to forget Ellen’s poignant wisdom; that tapestry making is about living the moment—this moment—wholehearted, and without need for “approval”.
Here’s the other part of the story—what started as an obstacle (impediment or hindrance) literally becomes a place from which her world (and mine) is transformed.
Let’s face it: more often than not, we resist and even resent obstacles. We no longer see the tapestry, but only that which diminishes and belittles and shames. We can feel overwhelmed, and it is easy to be jaded. It is easy to quit. But what if beautiful tapestries are born in these very places where we are ready, literally, to give up?
Which takes my mind to jazz. Early in his career, Charlie Parker received the nickname of “Yardbird,” and then he became known as “Bird.” My favorite Parker quote, “If it ain’t inside of you, it can’t come out of your horn.” Parker (like Dizzy Gillespie) was known for improvising long lines at blazing speed. Parker used a lot of flatted fifths, and jazz players used the word “bebop” to sing a flatted fifth, but Parker didn’t like to be put in a box. “Let’s not call it bebop,” he said. “Let’s just call it music.” Parker explained, “I realized that I could play what I heard inside me. That’s when I was born.”
Yes. That’s where the beautiful tapestry is made.
So where do we find this reservoir that gives us the courage, and strength, and spirit to move forward? I am certain of this; overcoming obstacles is not the goal. As if we must “defeat” someone or something.
Ellen’s story is not about who “won” or “lost.” It is about being at home in your skin and living from your heart.
It’s about shining a light from the candle in our spirit. “This little light of mine…”
It’s about knowing that each day we are able to continue to weave the tapestry of our lives… with a purity of spirit and intention. And that my friends, makes a difference in our world, where fear and discouragement and pessimism are real.
And if we wonder if we “are enough”?
Mother Teresa once told a roomful of lepers how much God loved them. She told them that they are “a gift to the rest of us.”
Interrupting her, an old leper raises his hand, and she calls on him. “Could you repeat that again?” he asks. “It did me good. So, would you mind; just saying it again.”
Yes please. Just say it again.
We easily forget, don’t we… the cathartic power of grace?
The power to shine the light on shame and fear and paranoia.
To invite us to bear the beams of love.
To invite us to weave the tapestry from our heart
Here’s the deal: Today, let us remember who we are. And let that light spill.
August means that blackberry cobbler is on the menu this week. My Oh My. And I’ll be enjoying every bite, watching the hummers dance and whirl, relishing every taste from the salvia blooms in our garden.
Quote for our week… “Humanity is not lost; it is buried beneath fear, greed, and noise. But every time you choose compassion over indifference, empathy over apathy, you bring us one step closer to remembering who we are. The world does not need more wealth or weapons—it needs people willing to be brave enough to care.” Cleo Wade
Note: An update about Sabbath Moment. Some have connected with it on Facebook, but I will be taking a sabbatical from social media. Please know that Sabbath Moment is available through email, and here on my website. Please share it with friends.
Please invite a friend to join us with Sabbath Moment.
And join us for Sabbath Moment Daily Dose (Tuesday through Friday). Go to the Sign up, and choose Daily under The dropdown menu.
I am so very grateful that you are a part of Sabbath Moment. And grateful for the support that makes it possible. Please, pass Sabbath Moment on to friends. And invite them to join us. My email address tdh@terryhershey.com
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Good morning Terry, We have returned to the PNW for our 5th year in Gig Harbor, WA. Our little friend welcomed us back. Even this little buzzing bee reminded us to stop and enjoy the beauty. Blessings,” Barbara Berry… Thank you Barbara…
POEM AND PRAYER
May the Lord Bless you and keep you.
May the Lord make his face to shine upon you
and be gracious unto you.
May God give you grace not to sell yourselves short,
Grace to risk something big for something good,
Grace to remember that the world is now too dangerous for anything but truth, and too small for anything but love.
May God take your minds and think through them.
May God take your lips and speak through them.
May God take your hands and work through them.
May God take your hearts and set them on fire.
William Sloane Coffin
Music for the Soul…
New–
Belovedness — Sarah Kroger
