Blog : Give Me Grace

Sisterhood is a Dance

Posted on April 23, 2016May 10, 2016 by lisha epperson

Sisterhood is a Dance

We move, intimately and instinctually.

What we have is a partnership

A soul tie and bond, an intimacy born of dance.

I trust the tension of the symbolic thread binding us together.

You are my sister.

You notice the void and aren’t afraid to step into the spotlight of my darkness.

You notice the spaces and pauses. The places I’ve left unmarked.

You know when my heart cries out for a ritual

You remember with me.

You take my hand.

You show me the stars carrying my name

And encircle me with words whispered on ancient winds.

You believe in me.

You tell me I belong.

You are my guide.

You become.

Embodying the fullness of spirit in a divine exchange

Of stories and songs and dreams

You come to me as hope.

You will me to move.

Our interaction is a sacred space – the holy temple without images or mirrors.

In you I see and know myself.

Yours is the voice I hear when rivers rise.

Yours is the voice that takes me home.

You carry me.

You know my scars.

Whispering the strength of my body’s grace

You remind me of the healing story it tells

I need to hear it.

So tell me again …

The holy craft of birth, the men, the work

You know the liberation, the limits, the love, the loss.

You know.

You share the secrets of my body’s memory.

You are my friend.

There is no language of separation

We exist as individuals.

Ours is a hermeneutic of trust

Watch us free fall with improvisational bliss.

You know my steps by heart.

Stillness isn’t easy, especially when people are watching

And silence, I’ve learned is a gift of power.

You’ve taught me to wield them well.

Pressed me into the redemptive rhythm of both.

In a circle of women, you are the sister of silence.

You, a quiet melody

Create space where there is none.

You make room.

You help me let go.

With you I surrender to the beauty of my unraveling

With you I am free

You’ve helped me find and redefine … my truth.

You make me better.

You, the wise muse, bear witness to my growth.

You help me believe for a manifesto of movement.

Forward, always forward.

Yours is a rhythmic unfolding of hurt turned joy.

You bring your whole self to a room and with that, peace.

Your dance helps me remember things I’ve lost,

Your dance, helps me remember my own.

A word from you and something like scales fall from my eyes.

You connect me to the hallowed terrain of unchartered territory.

With you, it all feels familiar.

With you, I see.

When I am worn

You are my recovery, my personal bridge to compassion

You, a poem made promise

Are the pledge I make when I favor and forgive myself.

So speak prophetess, speak.

In your story I hear and know my own.

We sway and dip and reach and bend

We leap, we soar, we fly

Ours is an exegesis on the sacred love between women friends

A pas de deux, a sacrament, a dance.

This piece has been edited but appeared first as a musing on sisterhood at SheLoves Magazine.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight … #GiveMeGrace

♥

[inlinkz_linkup id=627188 mode=1]

The Princess, Her Uniform and the Sacrament of Grace

Posted on April 16, 2016April 17, 2016 by lisha epperson

I chatted on Facebook with friends a few weeks ago about paring down my wardrobe enough to wear a uniform – a specific, few pieces of go-to gear designed to simplify my life.

I was surprised to find this idea online, even more so to find so many attracted to it. The online embassies I frequent are nothing if not huge portals of marketing madness. Checking in on Facebook has become just as much about keeping in touch with friends as feeding my desire for retail therapy. But I shouldn’t have been – we are creatures of comfort. Uniforms help us establish our identity.

I like the idea of a uniform. I decided who I wanted to be a long time ago and I don’t think that through the seasons of life – it’s changed much.

My go to look is a princess. My uniform would include a rotation of dresses maybe 4 per season that I accessorize with boots, sandals, or shoes, my ever-present big earrings and a head wrap or two. I always defer to the princess.

This idea appeals to me because as creative and imaginative as I can be, I crave things I can rely on. I don’t like change. Predictable is where it’s at when it comes to how I see myself and how I want to be seen. Like I said, I decided who I wanted to be a long time ago. Through the different seasons of my life I’ve worn a gown – always a gown.

Whether it’s my ballet dancing background or deeply imprinted images of maidens from fairy tales, I’m my most comfortable in the role of princess. That image is so pervasive in our culture we even turn to it when we imagine ourselves in the wilderness – even when it becomes useless. Too often, when a pair of jeans and sneakers would have served me well, I opted for the dress and for no other reason than my own comfort level. I’ve wrapped my identity in the dress. I don’t want it to change.

This season I’m encouraged by the expanse of my perspective and the changing of my wardrobe as I enjoy my consilium (read : midlife) years. God has shifted my reluctance to change and pressed me toward a wilder yes.

Specifically when it comes to my body.

gmgreconcile1 — dancing then – 25 years ago (Nutcracker)

I’m learning to reconcile the dancer I used to be with the dancer I am today. My waif like form has been replaced by a body of mommy love parts. I treasure the safe place of my form for my children but its different. Twenty years hasn’t been enough time to make peace with it. It’s always changing. In my mind, all this would be fine if God didn’t call me to dance. Are ballerinas busty? Can a princess be plus-sized?

My body image is layered, a multifaceted journey of culture and experience filtered through a western lens of what beauty is or should be. From the first of my body’s failings in a 14 year-long journey through infertility, to the experience of growing up in the constant dialogue and gaze of a mirror, I know my story isn’t unique. Maybe the voice came from your mother or in comparing yourself to someone you idolized. Either way, like me, you had a voice. That voice set the standard for what you hoped your body would be and achieve.

That voice gets in the way of my midlife journey and now in addition to everything else – it tells me I’m too old, that my dress won’t fit, that I’m finished.

This year I promised God I’d say yes each time He placed an opportunity at my feet. Sometimes it’s worked out, other times it didn’t. But I’m saying yes – and with the body I have. Restoring the temple for me begins with entering in , embracing the temple. I’m learning to reconcile the dancer I was with the dancer I am today. the body I had then, with the body I have now – the body I will have as I continue to age.

I’m doing the work. I’m eating right (most of the time) and committed to working out 3 times a week. I ran a 5k last summer and I’m in the middle of training for another. To reconcile doesn’t mean giving up or in, it means recommitting to the beautiful work of joyfully living in my body. In whatever state at find it – simply because I can. I still have the ability. I can live the truth of my #wilderyes with all the doubts and fears that come with it and still find a way to move.

I can still wear the dress. But I have to be open to seeing myself the way God sees me. I’d never have imagined running – or owning a pair of sneakers for that matter. This season He’s calling me to be open to an outpouring of grace and to be willing to switch it up a little when it comes to the gown.

For in him every one of God’s promises is a “Yes.” For this reason it is through him that we say the “Amen, let it be so, to the glory of God.” – 2 Corinthians 1:20 NRSV

“The treasure we seek requires no lengthy expedition, no expensive equipment, no superior aptitude or special company. All we lack is the willingness to imagine that we already have everything we need. The only thing missing is our consent to be where we are.”
― Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World

Paul and Barbara are right …

That yes from God to the thing he created you to be is always there. It isn’t tied to how much money you’ll make doing it, or how much fame you’ll gain from it. It is not tied to your aging process. The dancer God created in me is very much alive. I just have to imagine I have everything I need to fulfill the call he’s placed on my life. My yes is the affirmation that I trust Him, that I don’t limit his ability by leaning on my own.

My midlife dancer has wider hips and needs a bra (sometimes two, don’t ask), she’s not nearly as agile. In an interview Carmen de Lavallade said “the legs are first to go”. I’m living the humble truth of that now but the dancer, her spirit – is alive. If I’m brave enough to allow her expression, offer my #wilderyes to the wilderness of the unknown of my physical form, I’ll get to experience a new dance at every stage. How amazing is that?

gmgreconcile2 — dancing now – Winsome Retreat 2016

The deepest sense of reconciliation comes from the sacrament of grace we encounter in finding a way to make both sets of ideas about ourselves exist – at the same time. This allows me to dance through arthritis, step out of my comfort zone to believe my effort is holy and worthy despite the truth of change. Maybe even because of it.

How is God pressing you into a wilderness? A #wilderyes? Is it physical or emotional? I took a crash course in the wilderness of forgiveness recently and I find it’s lessons useful in this space. Tell me about yours. How are you embracing change?

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight … #GiveMeGrace

♥

[inlinkz_linkup id=625456 mode=1]

Give Me Grace : on rituals and tradition

Posted on April 2, 2016April 2, 2016 by lisha epperson

As my family and I continue to find our way after many years in a non-denominational church, my husband and I have wondered over rituals we’ve established and those we’ve failed to establish. Easter has been a holiday like that for us this year and memory, the critical element surrounding rituals and tradition that affect us most. Ours is an effort to define holy days for our family.

Although I remember the traditional celebratory offerings my mother shared with me (egg dying, candy, the Easter Bunny and food) I have not brought them into my life as a parent. The church that formed my behavior around holidays stressed knowing the history and celebrating the truth of a savior above participating in what they’d call pagan rituals. So there was no bunny, no candy, no colored eggs. Any ritual revolved around the fact that we didn’t have any.

Lately I’ve been sorry over it. Particularly now, when ritual and the contemplative arts have become so important to me. I want my children to have joyful memories surrounding holidays that involve traditions and rituals, something they can wrap their memories around.

This year, after church, we took them to see the orchid show at the New York Botanical Garden and have decided it will be an Easter family tradition. The energy and promise of new life in the garden at this particular time in the year is pretty close to magical.

In the garden I believed in magic, in the hope of revival and the expectancy of an affirmative answer to my prayers.

But it’s been a struggle to be hopeful in the middle of so many questions. As much as I want all things to be made new I sometimes wonder if watering and replanting is enough.

A fascination with the holy days of the year greens within me. My faith is flowering in ways I never imagined. As I lean into a private reverence for this phase of my journey – the rituals and tradition ground me to the God I believe in. At the same time, I’ve felt dry and depleted – too much like a word I’ve always had a problem with – barren. How can that be?

A friend brought to my attention that this year, during Holy Week, Good Friday fell on the same day as the Feast day of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin. It reminded me how birth and death coexist. And the beauty of Christ in all.

A sorrowful day full of grief and the unknown of death, the intense pain and heartbreak of the crucifixion, the concept of Good Friday leaves me wondering over hope. I know resignation and the gut wrenching acceptance of things we wish were not … but are. I’ve had more than enough reasons to imagine an end.

Like most of us, I have to work hard to remember to believe for resurrection – to not simply believe what I see.

Mary’s acceptance is a yes to God. She agrees to enter the wilderness of an impossible situation. The feast of the Annunciation celebrates her “wilder yes”. Mary’s yes leads to the birth of a son and savior – all after dying to self.

Any calling is a great responsibility and I’ve wrestled this week with the weight of the things Gods called me to do. From moving forward as a homeschooling mama and seminary student, to ministering in dance when asked, to pressing forward with the belief that some of the broken things in my family can be mended – I wonder if I have anything to offer, anything left to say. If I am, or if I’ve ever been qualified.

But … Good Friday and the possibility of a story not ending but beginning

And the Annunciation … and the power and possibility of birthing something great after a hard yes.

So yes! We went to the garden. The garden was the perfect place to consider rituals centered on resurrection.

The garden was what we needed.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight … #GiveMeGrace

♥

[inlinkz_linkup id=621779 mode=1]

Give Me Grace : This Holy Week

Posted on March 26, 2016March 26, 2016 by lisha epperson

In perhaps my most contemplative season, a season filled with dreams of attending my first Maundy Thursday service – I lapsed when it came to my planned observance of Holy Week. At least I thought I did.

A portion of the project I mentioned last week is due and in spite of a little one being under the weather I’m getting the work done. I’m taking the slow road in snippets of intense digging and deep loving with my priorities in check. Among my papers and bibles and text books – you’ll find tissues, soft toys and our current read aloud A Wrinkle in Time. #SeminaryMama is on the grind. Being a mother in school is the scariest undertaking but the love of my children really has added something special to it. Every time I wonder about doing seminary at a quieter time in life God reminds me of the grace that fills my journey. Who gets to write a paper snuggled up next to a 5-year-old?

I said a hard no to my 15-year-old when too many unknowns shut down an opportunity for him to see the new Batman movie. Unknown friends, unknown parents, unknown mall in a distant borough. Add a car ride with people I haven’t met and the No was hard but firm. I’ve wondered if it’s my still homeschooling mama hanging around in the hallways of my teenagers public high school experience or if it’s just me – my parenting style, my fears. The flight out of the nest has been smooth thus far – this rough patch made me wonder.

Still, a walk toward resurrection has not been lost on me this holy week. I’ve prayed about the wilderness and how I see Gods love in flowers. I connected with Kim Hyland about it as we finalized plans for a movement workshop I’ll lead at the Winsome Retreat in April. I listened and prayed.

gmgEaster2016c — Mount Morris Ascension Presbyterian Church

And …. I was grateful for the full on smile covering my face when I made time for a run and prayer walk when I didn’t feel like it.

Living in the wilderness is making me believe for a wilder yes ( more on that later). Life is good y’all. And my week was holy. Holy indeed.

gmgEaster2016b — St. Andrews Episcopal Church

Today I’m sharing some of the goodness I’ve curated this holy week.

Enjoy!
When Velynn Brown cries “Where are the Holy One’s?” – I feel it. Go to her site for a read / listen.

This framed some of my thoughts on the wilderness this week …

And these quotes … because yeah… these quotes.

Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime. Martin Luther

“Jesus’s resurrection is the beginning of God’s new project not to snatch people away from earth to heaven but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord’s Prayer is about.” – N.T. Wright

“You are the resurrection when you feed the people and care for the people and when you march for justice and when you hug somebody you were just mad at, when you forgive, when you behave on behalf of God, the love that God calls us to — you are the resurrection.” – Jacqui Lewis

Happy Resurrection Day!

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight … #GiveMeGrace

♥

[inlinkz_linkup id=619418 mode=1]