Creating Belonging...

Last night at church, in a room full of about 15 people, we gathered together to talk about how to create belonging within our church. To go beyond just a coming together on Sunday mornings and move instead to a place where we form deep connection with one another. To find joy in our interactions. Togetherness.

What is belonging, how do you define it? How do you go about creating it within your community? For me, belonging is first found within the smaller groups of a church or any large organization. These smaller settings are a place where you can build relationships and get to know one another in a more intimate way, which then can branch out into the larger community.

Creating belonging takes some effort on both the side of the organization, and the person desiring to join the group. The organization needs to offer small groups which serve as safe places for new people to get a foothold and the person wanting to join needs to be willing to put themselves out there until they form a few early relationships. It is a two sided street and both must offer up something of themselves.

Some recent examples of ways I have found my way into new groups here in my new area are as follows:

1) At church I joined a Small Group Ministry group last fall which allowed me to meet a group of great women pretty quickly and those relationships offered comfort to me which then allowed me to move into other groups within the church, thus resulting in meeting even more people.

2) At my son's homeschool co-op, they started offering Open Campus days which allow the community to come together for a day once a month. Many different small groups are forming such as book and game clubs, allowing one to get to know others on a smaller scale.

3) I have met most of my neighbors here in my new neighborhood and one neighbor invited me to participate in a weekday morning gathering of dog owners. Her willingness to reach out and include me resulted in me feeling comfortable enough to join in with the larger group of 10-15 dog owners, building community around the shared interest of dogs.

In all of these examples, belonging on my part was found because I was willing to put myself out there and also the organizations I joined provided an easy way for me to get involved through small groups.

I love participating in these organizations and the sense of belonging that comes with it. To begin to find a group of people to share the journey with where we offer up care and support for one another in this often fragmented world.

From Southern Great Lakes Forests to Northern Coastal Forests, you can go home again!

Ever since I left my native Michigan 30 years ago, I have been looking for home. Looking for a place to sink my roots and establish myself. I have lived in many states since then- Oregon, Colorado, Georgia, and Illinois- to name a few, but none have ever felt quite like home. I always had friendships with people in those states and other things reminded me of home, but there always seemed to be something missing.

When I first moved to Philadelphia, what I noticed most was how life opened up for me and I found my place in many area groups. I began to feel that maybe I had found home due to the many connections I was making with others and I began to think that discovering "home" was all about finding lots of friends in an area.

I also wondered if this area felt more comfortable because Pennsylvania and Michigan had other things in common. They both had Big Ten colleges in their states, both had sports fans with huge loyalties to their professional sports teams, and they shared many of the same chain stores and restaurants.

But after a bit, I realized that there was something more pulling at me here in Pennsylvania. Something more than friends and chain stores. I first noticed it when I was in the woods over at Ridley Creek State Park last week. The way the sun came through the forest and hit on the picnic tables nearby really spoke to me. The dirt path on the trail winding its way through the forest. The feel of the ground under my feet as I walked along. The smell of the woods. Suddenly, I realized I could have been in my native Michigan, the feel of the forest was so similar, so very familiar. The fallen leaves on the path, the bridges over the creeks, the rolling topography, the beeches, the oaks.

After doing some research, I discovered that Michigan lies in the Southern Great Lakes Terrestrial ecoregion and Philadelphia lies in the Northern Coastal Terrestrial ecoregion, different ecoregions for sure, but similar all the same. They both are comprised of hardwood forests and share many of the same local birds and animals. They both have understory trees and forest blooming wildflowers. While their climates are a bit different, Michigan colder in the winter certainly, they both share hot humid summers.

This pull, this feeling of home that I have been searching for and haven't been able to find outside of my native state, has been found finally here in Philadelphia and it wasn't due to just finding friends or chain stores, but due to finding a place whose natural spaces are much like what I grew up with. A place with the same ancient mysteries that essentially take me home. Home, I'm discovering, isn't so much about what you create on the surface of a place, but what a place does to touch those deep recesses of your soul. If you can find somewhere that replicates the woodlands, prairies, deserts or mountains of your childhood, you can go home again, even if you no longer reside there.

For more information on ecoregions click on the links below:

EPA list of Ecoregions in the United States

Short Descriptions of US Ecoregions done by Purdue University

Terrestrial Ecoregions - Southern Great Lakes Forests

Terrestrial Ecoregions -Northeastern Coastal Forests

USGS Land Cover Trends - Northern Piedmont

Mini-retreat

Yellow jewels hang from branches, beckoning me into nature's embrace. Tree litter covers my tracks as I leave the world behind. Time stops, obligations fall away as I make my way along the dirt path before me. Soon I must go back to pick up my son and make dinner, but for now, I will revel in the ways of nature.

Red Sculpture Lessons...

A split in the path of sorts. One rising higher for all to see, but stunted. The other taking a more gentle climb. Taking longer yet going farther. The lower path pushing past crossroads, obstacles, and moving into new space. Moving skyward, each crossroad bringing challenges but resulting in supportive lessons and wisdom. Lessons that work toward wholeness. Eventually moving beyond the crossroads, no longer impeded, rising high enough to bask in the warmth of the rising sun, the authenticity of self.

Planting Garlic under the October Full Moon

When I moved away from my Illinois home in June of '09, I left behind the garlic I had planted the October before. Somehow it felt as though I had left part of myself and when I came back for a a visit later that summer, I walked by my old house and peered over the fence at my ready to harvest garlic, their long stalks doing a dance for me.

I planted garlic for the first time ever in October of '07. The post I wrote about the experience and how I loved growing garlic so much that I wanted to become a garlic farmer can be found here. My love affair with garlic happened naturally and spontaneously and really was unexpected. Maybe it was because my garlic crop connected me to the land. Allowed me to find a way back to the land when I didn't even know my connection had gone awry.
Today is the October Full Moon and many farmers use the full moon in October as a measure of when you should plant your garlic. I have been looking forward to this day for a long time, excited to sink my hands into the dirt of my new home. Excited to know my most beloved crop would soon be nestled in the ground beside my garage. Connecting me to the land of my new home and bringing connection in other ways I have yet to discover.

Picnic Tables - Memories of my Past, Becoming my Future.

Traveling south on US101 just south of the Oregon border, my husband and I stopped at a roadside pull-off and took out our cooler to sit at a picnic table and share some lunch. The day was cold, it being late December, but we didn't notice the chill so much. Just the sheer beauty of the coastal woodlands we found ourselves immersed in. We were on a grand adventure heading towards the huge towering redwoods of northern California and the city of San Francisco beyond, our first big vacation since marrying. While I have fond memories of all that happened on that trip, it is the stop at the picnic table and the sandwiches we enjoyed that come back to me time and time again.

As a young girl, my family always stopped at picnic table filled waysides to eat while traveling. I loved the novelty of eating outside, family gathered round as we reached into the cooler and brought out food prepared from home. Our hands scrambling to hold plates and napkins down as the wind tugged at everything, threatening to send it all flying up and away. Challenge met as we ate peanut butter sandwiches, stretched our legs and enjoyed the break of a long car ride. Pleasant memories etched into the fabric of my being.

I have read that home is imprinted on children around the age of eight. That the landscape, culture, nature, and place where one resides as a young child forms a bank of memories that can be triggered many years in the future by a scent on the wind, a song on the radio, a view from the car etc...that will send one back to that place of home many years prior. I feel that these home place memories become so etched into who we are that they not only decide what activities we enjoy as we move into our future but also determine which memories we hold dear.

Recently I came across an empty picnic table in the state park near my home and my thoughts turned to the long ago picnic table outside my grandmother's cottage. Suddenly, I was 10 again and sitting beside my cousin as my extended family gathered around to feast on fruit, sandwiches, and buttercream cake put out on the table by my grandmother. I can remember the way the sun glistened on the lake, the way the woodlot beside the cottage smelled as though it was yesterday.

The picnic tables of my youth have become the tables of my future. In a supposed desire to go home again, I continually find myself unconsciously drawn to places that offer picnic tables because those places are where I feel most comfortable, especially after a lifetime of hopping over those wooden planked seats as I drew up to the rustic tables. From campgrounds to parks, all the while imprinting the love of picnic tables onto my own sons, I find myself seeking out picnic tables and have never stopped to consider why I am so drawn to them until now.

I can see now how they tell the story of my long ago past, taking me home again by invoking pleasant memories, but I see too how their comfortable warmth will also take me into my future. The tales those tables tell and will tell. Both of where I have been and also of where I am going.

Quieting my Mind, Slowing my Pace...

I need to sit awhile and contemplate where I am going. I have been spinning about, moving my belongings from one house to the next and in the process, losing my sense of self, losing my sense of balance. Mind you, all of this spinning has brought me many riches and I love the community I have landed in. I just am not yet planted here. Inertia, a resting and thinking will bring that. I just need to slow down. Way down.

This morning, as my pup and I made our way to the park to meet up with some other dog owners, I stumbled upon a pocket park with a beautiful mosaic bench tucked into one corner. I love things with character- especially those that have the hand of the artist on them- and I immediately slowed down to take a longer look at the pictures created in the tiles. I was reminded that my art, what I want to create for myself in life, had been put away for too long and needs to be drawn back out and worked on.

I think I need to go on a personal retreat. To use solitude to find myself and collect my thoughts. So that I can begin again anew. To find my balance. To think, to breathe. To create something beautiful which speaks to me in much the same way this bench does.

Journeying With Others...To All Who May Know Me...

Come with me, lets link arms together. Share our lives by upholding the best in each other. Embrace this glorious day and hold it with a smile. To thank you for you and me for me. So joyous to share this journey of life together!

Hold Your Stone and Know That You Are Home

Tomorrow at church at our annual Ingathering service to kick off the new year, we are going to bless our stones of joy and sorrow. Everyone is asked to bring a stone picked up from a meaningful place this summer, so that these stones can be used each Sunday morning throughout the year as part of our joy and sorrow ritual. A time in our service when one can come forward, pick a stone from a basket and toss it into a bowl of water, the ripples of water sending your silent joy or sorrow out into the universe.

As I thought about what stone I should bring to the service, I realized I hadn't visited any fancy place this summer in which to bring a stone back from. But suddenly it dawned on me that the most important stone for me to bring would be one which was from the backyard of my new home. Of course I thought. Home. My home. Finally. This stone would represent home for me. Finally finding my home. No longer searching for my place and finally being able to embrace what it meant to be home.

As I stepped out into my back yard, all I saw where some simple rocks, gray in color with mottled black throughout. They really didn't appeal to me or really I should say, none of them spoke to me. I didn't feel any sort of connection or energy coming from the rocks I saw until out of the corner of my eye I spotted a smooth white rock tucked under some dirt, a cockeyed smile of sorts etched upon its face. Immediately I knew this was the stone for me. Smiling up at me, asking to become my special rock, the stone that represented Home.

After bringing my rock inside and giving it a good wash, I turned to a book called "Little Stone, Your Friend for Life" by James Wanless and inside I found myself captivated by the section labeled "Home" It so resonated with me and what I was feeling at the time that I would like to share some of the passage here:

Mother Stone

"As first matter, stone is our MA, our mother. Out of stone we have emerged, so it's true in a way: Little Stone is our mother. Just imagine how many human, animal, and plant births she has supported. As the mother of all mother, the Mother Stone makes us feel secure, at home. She gives of herself with unconditional love, always reliable and dependable. So strong and yet so soft. Through her, we grow our roots and wings...so that we can fly, knowing we can return to her. She is home base, always there for us. Haven't we all felt at times insecure, dislocated, unsure, foreign, maybe even alien? Without a sense of place- home- there can be no peace, no comfort, no security, no rest. Feeling at home is the base, ground zero for happiness and success in life."

Going forward, throughout the church year, when I step forward to express a joy or concern, I will look for my little stone smiling up at me, reminding me that I'm home.

Finding connection in all the wrong/right places.

When my son asked if I would be interested in visiting an amusement park with some friends of ours, I really didn't want to go. To me, amusement parks feel so fake and lack connection with the natural world that I so crave. I have disliked amusement parks so much in fact that my son at age 15 had never visited one. Never felt the thrill of roaring down a hill on a roller coaster or splashing into the water at the bottom of a flume ride.

As much as my son pushed to go, I pushed back with a million reasons why we shouldn't. The heat, the crowds, the bad food, the corrals of people waiting forever to board a ride. Ugh! No, no, no, I exclaimed! I wanted Ryan to see it my way, to understand my thinking and agree that we should just stay home and avoid the whole very bad scene.

But Ryan was not to be dissuaded and after a bit, I came to understand how important the trip was to him. Even though I didn't agree with his thinking and even though I really hated the thought of spending the day at a place that went totally against how I like to spend my time, I relented.

The day before the trip, as I complained to my mom about the amusement park, she offhandedly suggested I take my camera, thinking I might want to shoot something interesting for my blog in one of the many small towns along the way. While I didn't see anything worth photographing along the way I did began to photograph my son and his friends enjoying the rides at the park. After a bit, as I reviewed each shot after I took it, one thing began to stick out in the photos time and time again. Ryan's smile. His big, authentic, full of happiness smile.

In that moment, something shifted within me and suddenly all of Ryan's smiles were worth so much more than anything I could have accomplished by staying home. Making him happy by giving up something of myself felt so good and reminded me of the fact that life isn't about getting what you want but about giving up some of what you want in order to find deep connection with another. That hanging in there and finding your way through a disagreement or tough situation can bring something unexpected and incredibly meaningful.