emilysnell

[emilysnell]

Connection Amidst the Chaos

She was doing what she was made to do. She was offering her art, her music to the world. And we were gratefully receiving it, treasuring it, savoring the moment. We sang and cheered and laughed and applauded, and we let tears well up in our eyes. She sat at the piano or stood at the mic, and she let it fill her. I could see her willing herself to receive it (the practice of letting yourself be seen, the practice of vulnerable joy, the practice of being fully present in the moment), and with obviously soul-deep sincerity, she said ‘thank you’ to us. She offered her gift, we received it with joy, and in return she received our appreciation and expressed mutual appreciation back to us. It felt like such a beautiful cycle of connection, creativity, joy. It felt rare, magical.

Magical moments are worth remembering. Almost a year ago, I attended my first show at the Grand Ole Opry. On Oct. 6, 2019, I sat next to one of my very best friends (love you, KC!) at the Nashville stop on the Amidst the Chaos tour to see one of my favorite artists. I had wanted to see Sara Bareilles live for years, and finally - on the day designated for celebrating my 30th birthday, on the day almost exactly in the middle of KC & I both turning 30 - we participated in Sara’s magical connective power through live music. Because of the heart of it all, it was one of the best shows I’ve attended, and certainly, it stands out for me as one of the most magical pictures of human connection.

Sara’s offering of music is so expressive, so full of feeling, and you could see it clearly on her face in every song. And after each performance, when we in the crowd offered our gratitude to her for the way she helps us acknowledge what it means to be human, she intentionally opened her heart to receive our appreciation. I’m not sure that I’ve ever witnessed it so obviously before... the determination to receive the love that’s being offered to you. I could see it in her body, in her face, in her pausing before saying thank you. She was practicing receiving our gratitude for what she offered us. The magic of creativity and connection.

A few months later I was telling Dylan about the experience, relaying again the magic of that night and the impression it had made on me. He said it sounds like a reflection of the human relationship with God and our expression of gratitude through worship. It’s like this: God shows up for us, fully and lovingly and offering us the gift of life; we receive it in all its beauty and wonder, and we offer God our sincere & deep gratitude; and God receives our worship, our thanksgiving & praise, soaking it in and then sending love right back to us, continuing the cycle of creative giving and connection.

In this year of 2020, a year that certainly feels like we are “amidst the chaos,” a year beyond words sometimes, it helps me to remember this magical connection that’s possible - among us humans and with God. I see right now how important music and art and beauty are for us... we need them to awaken us and connect us and heal us. We need to appreciate the gifts of others; we need to receive with love and gratitude. We need to cheer people on when they do the thing they were made to do. We ourselves need to do that thing we were made to do, the thing that’s our gift to the world. And when people offer their gratitude for our gift, we need to practice receiving it, practice being seen, practice the vulnerability of joy, practice being fully present in the moment. We all have a part to play. Keep your eyes and heart open, friends, so that you can participate in this magical connection.

“Don’t stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos, 

Though I know it’s blinding, there’s a way out

Say out loud

We will not give up on love now.”

If you want a little taste of Sara’s magic, you can watch this live performance of “Orpheus” just a week after the show I attended. Her heart comes through in her intro about why she wrote the song and, of course, her heart comes through in the singing too. https://youtu.be/rX3jcW78iHc 

[emilysnell]

How do we believe when unbelief seems more reasonable?

When tragedy unexpectedly arrives on our doorstep, how do we continue to believe in a good God? What does it mean when people pray in faith for God to do a miraculous work but the miracle doesn’t happen? What do we believe then about who God is and what God is doing? What do we believe about prayer and faith? 

These are heavy questions. They’re legitimate questions. I believe it’s wise for us to consider them and not to push for a simple, easy answer. Faithfulness calls us to wrestle with these complex questions about what we believe. 

For those of us who participate in church, it’s especially important for us to think critically about these questions and to hold them patiently, gently, curiously rather than dismiss them. We do a disservice to ourselves, our faith community, and those outside of the church when we fail to make space for these kinds of tough conversations. When people can’t talk about their struggles and their questions and their doubts, it builds a sense of isolation, and I believe that creates barriers in our hearts - barriers that prevent us from being able to see, trust, believe in God’s goodness. 

God’s work in the world is sometimes invisible, and when tragedy comes along, it can be really hard to believe that God is present. It can seem like God is absent or cruel or helpless. I believe that God weeps with us in our tragedies, that God is moved to compassion when people experience suffering, that God loves all people and longs to heal our wounds. I believe that God is powerful and can do the unexplainable. And I also acknowledge that sometimes terrible things happen, and it’s easy to wonder if God actually cares, if God actually is kind, if God really can be trusted...

It’s complicated, and I don’t want to try to minimize the complexity of it by offering simplistic responses. Instead, I want to learn to be a person who trusts in God’s goodness even when I can’t explain it. I want to be a person who cries with those who are grieving while also believing (silently, internally) that God is there grieving alongside them and that God has loving plans in mind to heal and restore them. I want to be a person who holds space for other people’s questions and doubt, who acknowledges how difficult it is to believe in the face of tragedy.   

I get frustrated sometimes when church people (who I love dearly and who I, in fact, am a part) don’t make room for these kinds of conversations. If we are going to be effective representatives of Jesus, we need to learn to walk with people in their darkness and to be open and patient about considering life’s toughest questions. Being a person of faith is not about having all of the answers but about holding an open heart for Divine Mystery amidst the questions. I was grateful a few years ago to interview some people who had endured the worst - loss of children, loss of spouse - but had developed an understanding of God’s goodness that carried them through their hardships. I’m sure it took time; I’m sure it was a difficult journey. I was so thankful to hear their wisdom and to hear their perspective on who God is and how God works in the world. I would link to the article here, but I can’t seem to find it! Ugh.

Sometimes people have to endure the unimaginable. And somehow, I believe, God cares and God is ready to help. And I hope that the people who say they follow God will learn to carry questions instead of offer platitudes. I hope that we’ll learn to have hard conversations and sit with mystery and not expect to figure out answers. Instead, may we learn to journey with one another in the hard times of life, providing community and safety that might lead to healing.

[emilysnell]

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year

Isn’t it lovely throughout December to get photos and cards from friends wishing you a Merry Christmas and perhaps recapping their year? It brings me so much joy to get those surprise gifts in the mail! I don’t send Christmas photos or Christmas cards, but it seems like a delightful idea! So even though the holiday is now over, I decided it’s still worth writing what I would say if I would have sent a Christmas letter for 2019.

First, let’s talk about the exciting places I got to visit this past year! 

In April, I took a road trip to Montgomery, AL with 4 dear friends to visit the Equal Justice Initiative’s museum and memorial. It was a great bonding opportunity for us, and a deeply meaningful experience of acknowledging more of our nation’s history of racism and injustice. It’s not a fun thing to pay attention to, but it’s certainly worthy of our minds and hearts. I highly recommend making a visit to this place if you have a chance!

In May, my roommate Abby and I visited the Pacific Northwest! We stayed with sweet mutual friends in Portland, and our day at the Oregon coast was probably my favorite of the whole trip. Then we drove up to Seattle and stayed with Abby’s friend Victoria. We hiked at Mt. Rainer National Park and relished the beautiful city-scape & nature views that Seattle offers. And being so close to the Canadian border, we decided we had to finish out our trip with a visit to Vancouver. What a fun, diverse city! Lots of good ice cream and a really nice Airbnb and an evening at the Chinese Night Market completed our adventure. What a gift to experience so many new places with a treasured friend!

In June, I flew out to Colorado to meet up with my family for some time at Claire’s family cabin near Pagosa Springs. I loved the amazing view from the back deck, and we had a great time hiking, mini-golfing, and just being together!

A work trip in July brought me to Kansas City, which gave me a fun chance to show my coworkers around a city I really enjoy! I even had the opportunity to go to a Royals game with a few of them one evening. It was a great week working Youth 2019, and I also was able to be at nephew Walter’s 5th birthday party - such a Divine orchestration of the calendar! :)

Labor Day weekend gave me another opportunity to be back in Kansas, spending the long weekend with extended family! We said it was in honor of my upcoming 30th birthday, but mostly it was just an excuse to see my many cousins and aunts & uncles who I absolutely adore!

In late September, another work trip took me to Chicago for a really meaningful conference and gave me a chance to spend some quality time with my coworker/dear friend/spiritual companion/life mentor, Kara. I’m so grateful for that opportunity!

In October, the day after I turned 30, my sweet friend Candice and I headed out on a road trip to Charleston and Savannah. What a great adventure! We spent good time at the beach in each state because we both love the ocean. Shopping, touring historical sites, eating lots of sea food, and wrapping up with a sunset dolphin cruise made for some great memories! 

While all of these trips were incredibly fun and gave significant life to this year, of course, much of 2019 was filled with the ordinary stuff of every day. Countless coffee dates with friends, conversations over chips, salsa, & margaritas, trips to Walmart and McDonald’s with my neighbor kids (middle school girls are my favorite!!), daily debriefs with Abby each evening after work, weekly attendance at church and small group gatherings, trying on new responsibilities at the office...

I’m continuing to uncover my gifts and desires for my career, and 2019 gave me many opportunities to test new things, supported by amazing coworkers and supervisors. Working at The Upper Room is an incredible blessing in my life - a daily source of God’s grace!

I participated in two retreats at work - one we created (lots of work for me!) called Resilience for Activists and one we hosted (a little less work for me!) for Contemplative Outreach. Though I was working, both provided me with opportunities to notice God at work in me, in others, and in the world. I’m thankful!

I also participated in The Upper Room’s spiritual formation program for adults - Journey to the Table. It was a big time commitment in February and March, but it enabled me to discover some of my spiritual gifts and to connect with new people in meaningful ways. My JTT experience gave me a deeper understanding of one particular quality I bring to the table, and that new understanding continues to be a blessing - a source of confidence and gratitude.

Other significant happenings this year:

Abby and I were invited to two African weddings this summer and early fall for families who live in our neighborhood. We were blessed to experience the rich Congolese & Rwandan cultural traditions of our neighbors in this way! One of the weddings was for our dear friend Yemima, and we were grateful to celebrate her with a bridal shower in our home and then to spend the entire wedding day with her & her family in Atlanta. Treasured memories!

So many 30th birthdays! I turned 30 in October and am feeling excited and grateful. And several of my dearest friends also turned 30 in 2019, so we filled up the last half of the year with several joyous celebrations!

Every couple of months, my faithful Broadway buddy Kathryn-Claire and I get to attend a musical at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. We’ve been “seat mates” and season ticket holders at TPAC for about 5 years now, and this year we got to attend Dear Evan Hansen - a show I’ve been longing to see for years. It did not disappoint!

I continue to be actively involved at my church in several ways and with a weekly women’s centering prayer group at Belmont United Methodist Church. Abby and I also host a monthly prayer gathering in our home for folks who, like us, love and care for the refugee families in our neighborhood.

Of course, as is true with any year of life, 2019 had its challenges - sad, hard, frustrating, discouraging moments - but I won’t detail those here. I’m focusing on the parts marked by hope, joy, love, peace because that’s what Christmas is all about! In many, many ways, 2019 was filled with opportunities for me to see God in new ways, and that, I believe, is what contributes to a wonderful life.

Friends, if you’ve read this far, I applaud your dedication and generous spirit! Thanks. :) 

May your reflections on 2019 remind you of love and joy, and as you look to what’s ahead in 2020, may you find unexpected hope and peace. That’s what I’m praying for - for me and for all of us. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

[emilysnell]

Inspired by Grandma

In December, I went to New York City (one of my favorite places!) with one of my very dearest friends. We walked and walked and walked all over that lovely city and shopped (I bought all the jewelry!) and had meaningful conversation and ate delicious food and got free stuff every day. It was so fun! Lots of great memories and plenty of laughter.

At the end of the trip, while waiting at the Newark airport for our return flight home, we met a sweet older woman who needed some assistance. She and I had some trouble initially with understanding one another. Perhaps it was because I was struggling to process her Jamaican accent. Perhaps it was because she was speaking a mixture of languages. Perhaps it was because she couldn’t hear me well. Perhaps it was because she was confused. It’s hard to know. Anyway, we were patient with each other while we tried to figure things out, and after taking a look at her boarding pass, I realized she was booked to be on our flight. So, I assured her that she was in the right place and helped her park her wheelchair in a good spot. 

Beverly was a friendly lady. She offered very kind words & much gratitude, and as we interacted, I learned small details about her life - about her kids and where they live, about some struggles she’d endured, about where she was headed and who she was visiting. It really was remarkable how much I learned in those brief bits of conversation we shared, scattered over the span of an hour or two. It was clear as we talked that Beverly had some memory problems. She repeated herself, and she asked for my name several times. We talked about her trip, about when the flight would leave. I bought her some juice and helped her gather her bag and other items. We talked again about her family. We talked again about whether she was at the right gate and when the flight would leave. I helped her communicate with the Southwest staff. Beverly and I had developed at least a little rhythm for understanding one another, so I tried to act as translator when she seemed confused by the SW staff questions and when they seemed confused by her responses. I tried not to worry about how she’d complete the necessary tasks while traveling alone on the rest of her journey to meet her daughter. After the flight attendants helped Beverly board the plane, I smiled at her when I walked past her seat and continued down the aisle. The lack of recognition on her face told me that she had already forgotten who I was.

The whole interaction with Beverly was an experience of grace for me. I suppose grace is what we find when we see one another with compassionate eyes. The interesting details I learned about her made me long to know more of her life story - about her resilience and about her faith. I had so many questions, but I didn’t ask any of them. I’m not sure she could have answered, even if I had felt comfortable asking. I was glad to be able to help Beverly. And I was glad for the holy moment it created. In a spiritual sort of way, it felt like an opportunity to show love to my grandma.

My grandma lived with dementia for 10 years. Long before she passed away, my grandma lost her ability to intentionally teach life lessons to her grandkids. But even after losing that ability/awareness, she nevertheless was teaching us - simply by her existence. My kind servant-hearted, hard-working, spunky grandma lived as an example to her grandkids, and even after she lost many of her abilities, her existence and her spirit continued to inspire us to live life well. Grandma’s experience of memory loss embedded in me - and in many of her grandkids, I think - a deep compassion for others with memory loss. For the last several years, any time I encounter an older person or a person with memory problems, my grandma always comes to mind. It really does feel like some kind of spiritual connection. God’s love grows within our hearts as we interact with one another, when we see each other through those same loving eyes. I guess spiritual is exactly the right word for the compassionate response that sometimes wells up in us when we truly see another person.

I cried a little on the flight home from Newark as I journaled about my interaction with Beverly and about the ways it made me think of my grandma and about the ways that God creates holy moments among souls.

For some unknown reason, this whole experience with Beverly came flooding back to me this morning on my drive to work. And once again, the tears were flowing. It’s hard to put words to all of it. But I hope somehow, you see what I see in it - strangers lives being connected, God being made known, holy moments wrapped up in small gestures of everyday ordinary kindness. 

My grandma passed away 2 days after my encounter with Beverly. I think she would have been pleased to know that she inspired the compassion I extended. And I think she would have been doubly pleased to know that I share in her belief that such compassion is only possible by God’s grace.

[emilysnell]

Inconvenient humanity

Being a person with big feelings can be so inconvenient.

The last two days have involved a lot of tears and emotional processing - crying in the car, crying at home, crying at work, crying in my therapist’s office.

I don’t know if you find this to be true, but for me, untwisting all of the emotions and thoughts and experiences can take a lot of effort. So, after two days of working through it, I think the tears are related to the fact that I’m doing new things at work and new things at church, and those new things leave me feeling like I’m swimming in unfamiliar waters or walking on shifting ground. I’m not sure of myself and not confident in my ability to do these new things well. And that connects with my tendency toward unrealistic expectations of myself and my fears about disappointing people. Add to that the fear that crying in front of people will lead them to perceive me as weak or fragile, and you’ve got quite a thorough mess to sort through in therapy!

As I’ve been processing my feelings the last few days, I’ve been trying to remind myself of some phrases that have been helpful in recent months.

1) Jesus is my first and best friend.

2) I can be a good friend to myself.

When I’m feeling upset, it’s easy for me to grab my phone and text my friends, looking for affirmation and comfort. Certainly, finding support is important. We need community! Friends are a beautiful gift. But I also want to be careful that I’m not expecting others to carry the things that are my responsibility. I want to develop an inner frame that sustains and upholds me, and that needs to be cultivated from within. The comfort and affirmation and value I’m seeking can come from God’s Spirit within me and from myself. It’s good for me to practice running to Jesus before I run to others. And it’s good for me to practice being a good/kind/wise/loving friend to myself.

In therapy yesterday, a mantra from my conflict management studies came to mind. “Failure is my teacher.” It’s easy for me to forget that. I fear risks. I fear mistakes. I worry that not doing something perfectly means that I’m not good enough. When fear is leading the way, I fall into believing that struggle or challenge or uncertainty = I’m not enough. Like piano lessons in middle school, if I can’t do something perfectly right away, I have a tendency to give up and avoid it altogether. Instead of believing that struggle is an opportunity to learn and grow, I run from it and seek to stay in what’s familiar. But this brings to mind something Glennon often says - just because something is hard doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.

I want to be a person who always seeks growth, who steps out in faith, who tries new things. And some days, I am that person. And other days my fears and insecurities and the lies I believe get the best of me. Being a person who seeks growth requires a willingness to be uncomfortable, a willingness to enter unfamiliar territory, a willingness to risk making mistakes. 

So as I seek to be that person, what I can do is be patient with myself and offer myself grace. I can remind myself that failure is an opportunity to learn and grow and become stronger. I can remind myself that my value is not contingent upon my successes. I can remind myself that love from God and from me provides stable ground upon which I can take the risks that lead to growth.

This quote from Henri Nouwen has been really important and helpful to me since April when I first heard it:

“The love of Jesus will give you an ever clearer vision of your call. The more you are called to speak for  God’s love, the more you will need to deepen the knowledge of that love in your own heart. The farther the outward journey takes you, the deeper the inward journey must be.”

Maybe you’re like me and you need a reminder of the deep love of God. Maybe you’re like me and trying new things brings all your insecurities to the surface. Maybe you’re like me and sometimes you get caught up in your fears and in seeking others’ approval. Let’s learn together to enter the presence of Jesus, our first and best friend. Let’s learn together to be good friends to ourselves. Let’s learn together to deepen our knowledge of God’s love in our hearts.

When our inconvenient big human feelings lead us to tears, let’s learn to be kind  to ourselves, to practice patience, and to receive grace.

[emilysnell]

Fasting & Ashes & Love

My church is currently in the midst of 30 days of prayer and fasting. We created this intentional effort (called Fast Forward) last year, and I felt like it was a beautiful season of being together, uniting in practice and prayer. Last year was the first time I ever really fasted, and it was good for me to have the resources Ethos provided to help me understand the purpose and mindset of fasting. 

This year, I planned to participate in Fast Forward again, but I found myself once again struggling with understanding the real reason behind the action. My experience this year hasn't been as meaningful as it was last year, and that's been hard for me. I think part of the reason it's been a struggle is because of my tendency toward shame and guilt. 

Full disclosure, this year I planned to fast in this way... 

1) Give up my phone during meal times - This seemed like a great opportunity (3 times per day) to focus on God and to pray instead of playing on my phone.

2) Give up soda - I tend to crave Diet Coke or Coke Zero, so this seemed like an opportunity to remember my spiritual thirst for God any time I found myself physically thirsty.

3) Give up TV on weeknights - Almost every night I find myself sitting in front of the TV, and I don't want that to be the thing that receives my attention all the time. Spending my evenings reading or doing something more meaningful seemed like a good practice.

Good intentions. (Sort of. The judge-y part of me says these things were the easy way out for me, but I'm trying not to let that voice be so loud.) 

So here's what actually happened with my fasting: 1) Giving up my phone actually has been helpful and made me realize how much of an internal reflex it is to grab my device, but I still find that it's easy to distract myself in other ways. 

2) I gave up soda for about a week, but I found that I wasn't craving it much... so it wasn't really making me think about God. And instead of having soda, I found myself drinking sweet tea and other sugary drinks, which certainly isn't a very healthy choice. And then I cheated and had soda two days in a row.

3) When I realized the Olympics are happening, I scrapped my TV idea because... this only happens every 4 years, and I don't want to miss it. (Plus, on the nights when I did keep the TV off, I found myself sitting in my chair "reading" through closed eyelids, and that's not a very meaningful use of time either.)

So, here I am, feeling guilty, feeling like God's not really speaking to me, feeling disappointed in my lack of discipline, feeling frustrated about... lots of things.

   I find myself arriving here at Ash Wednesday, reading articles about this holy day, reading about Lent and its purpose, reading about why Christians participate in fasting, reading about why fasting matters or how to participate in a fast that's truly meaningful. And I'm reminded that I'm caught in the in between... saved by a holy God but not yet living in heaven's holy perfection. I'm trying to re-member my soul and its need for a Savior. I'm trying to recall the meaning of grace, the experience of forgiveness, the deep unending love of God. I'm trying to gently, kindly preach truth to myself about who God is and who am I. Love. How appropriate that this Ash Wednesday is also Valentine's Day. 

Whatever you're feeling or experiencing today, I hope that Love abounds around you and in you. I hope that, like me, you are trying to extend yourself grace and open your heart to the presence of Love - love that never fails even when we aren't quite yet who/where we'd like to be.

[emilysnell]

What to do when your dentist makes you uncomfortable

I’ve finally had enough. I’m finding a new dentist. But I’m gonna say a few words before I ditch this guy.

For years now, I’ve been going to the same dentist - someone I didn’t originally choose but got stuck with when my real dentist moved on to start her own practice. The guy I got stuck with has always made me feel uncomfortable with his jokes/comments and unwanted hugs. But I tried to push those feelings aside because I like everything else about the office. The office itself (reception area, equipment, etc) is really high quality, the ladies at the front desk and all of the hygienists are very kind, everyone (even my creepy dentist) seems to be good at taking care of teeth. The location of their office was close to my work. They have gorgeous huge windows so that you have a nice view while you’re sitting in the chair trying not to think of the sound of the drill or the fact that you’ve been holding your mouth open for 20 minutes. Everything about it was great. Except the dentist and his creepy comments.

So, because everything else was great, I put up with the comments. I tried not to be too tense about the uncomfortable hug at the end. I made excuses for him: he doesn’t mean any harm; he’s not dangerous; he doesn’t realize he’s making me uncomfortable.

But 6 months ago when I went to my appointment, on the way there, I found myself rehearsing a whole speech that I was trying to work up the courage to say. A speech about why I didn’t want a hug, about why he really shouldn’t hug his clients. Thankfully, surprisingly, at the end of my appointment, he didn’t hug me. I was so relieved!

And then I went back yesterday. Again no hug (thankfully!) but he maintained his usual uncomfortable comments. This time, I finally decided to speak up (although, I wish I had been more direct). Let me paint a little picture for you and then we’ll get to the real moral of this whole story:

Dentist (while checking the lymph nodes in my neck): “This is my excuse to play with your neck.”

Me: *silence*

Dentist: “Uh oh. You didn’t laugh. That means I’m in trouble.” *for several minutes tries to make me laugh and yet also continues with awkward topics*

Dentist (compliments me on the smell of my lotion): “Don’t worry I won’t chase you down the hall.” *ensues telling story about another client who always smells good*

Finally, several minutes later after he continues talking about trying to make me laugh, 

I say: “I think you have too many jokes. Maybe you should get rid of some of them.”

Dentist: “The second you start believing my jokes, you can reach up and slap me.”

I don’t know how that conversation makes you feel, but in addition to making me feel uncomfortable, it made me angry.

It made me angry because he’s an adult man who should have enough professionalism to know when jokes are appropriate or inappropriate. 

It made me angry because I don’t think he would say those same comments if a patient’s husband/boyfriend/brother/dad was in the room. And I don’t think he’d make those comments if his own wife was in the room.

It made me angry because he obviously knows the comments have the potential to make people uncomfortable but he chooses to say them anyway AND he puts the pressure on the client to do something about it rather than taking responsibility for the fact that he’s the one in the wrong.

Just to be clear: If you have to give people an out like “you can reach up and slap me,” you shouldn’t be saying it in the first place. Don’t make me have to react to your inappropriate behavior. Use your own professional/logical sense and don’t make those kinds of comments.

The whole episode has me thinking about cultural expectations, about manners, about harassment, about confronting inappropriate behavior, about power differentials, about making decisions to leave - even if you’re just leaving your dentist.

I’m not the only woman who feels uncomfortable about this man’s conduct. (I have friends who go to the same dentist and have told me that he’s a little creepy.) And yet, we all made excuses for him. We all just put up with the comments because he’s “harmless.” While I do think (hope), he would never actually do anything inappropriate, I would argue that words are far from harmless. And I think it’s important for us - especially women - to speak up and not make excuses when inappropriate behavior is happening. 

Before posting this, I asked a friend to read and offer feedback. She asked if I had considering mentioning #metoo. I told her that I didn’t really consider this a #metoo moment because it seems so “minor.” Red flag. As soon as I said it, I realized that’s the exact reason I need to mention it. The #metoo movement is all about bringing awareness to the prevalence of sexual harassment. And too often most of us are silent because the things we experience seem “minor” or “harmless.” But the reality is that these types of comments or unwanted physical contact aren’t ok. And we shouldn’t minimize them or dismiss them.

(Side note, I tend to be very gracious and forgiving about physical contact. I’m a touchy person. I often hug people or put a hand on someone’s arm. I skipped right over the fact that my dentist put his hand on my knee - just for a second. I didn’t mention it because it didn’t really bother me very much. And like I said, since I’m a touchy person, I tend to be forgiving about that. But I also know that it’s not professional in this context or any similar context.)

Even if it’s something small, if we are going to change the culture in this country, we have to start speaking up. And for me, that starts with yesterday’s comment to my dentist but also a phone call this week to tell them I’m not coming back - and to tell them exactly why I’m not coming back.

What to do when your dentist makes you uncomfortable:

1. Speak up. Say something.

2. Leave. Find a new dentist.

3. Please don’t put up with it for as long as I did. 

Men and women, we have to work together on this. We have to raise our kids to view others with respect and dignity and to speak and act in ways that honor others. We have to raise our kids to speak up, get help, walk away when inappropriate behavior happens. 

Men and women, we need to look at our own hearts. Where are we making excuses for ourselves and for others? 

Men and women, we need to learn how to respond when we are confronted. If someone tells you that you’re being inappropriate, listen. Apologize. Most importantly, change. Do better. Be better.

We’re in this together. Let’s make the world a safer place, a place where people are valued and honored and celebrated.

[emilysnell]

Let the tears fall.

This afternoon at work, we hosted a special prayer service in the chapel as a response to the tragedy in Las Vegas. We’ve had similar services the last few weeks for those impacted by natural disasters. But today I was really feeling my feelings.

As a co-worker shared a sweet simple song and a few words and then all of us together held lots of silence, I cried. I cried through the whole service. I didn’t even bother trying to gracefully wipe away the tears. I just let them fall. One tear after another streaming down my face - small rivers flowing down my cheeks, pooling under my chin. I half-expected to open my eyes and see a puddle on my shirt.

In the midst of my silent prayers, I caught myself wondering if my tears really matter. If the grieving families don’t know that people in Nashville are crying with/for them, is it meaningful? I’d much prefer to go on with my day as usual, casting aside these dreadful headlines - not actually feeling the weight of our messy world. I’d rather shut out the heartbreak. It would be easier if I didn’t have to walk around work with bloodshot eyes, barely maintaining composure the rest of the afternoon. It would be easier not to experience this sorrow. But even though it doesn’t make sense to me, I’m choosing to believe that my expression of tears and my offering of prayer does indeed make a difference.

Maybe the empathy we express/experience/cultivate when we choose to grieve with strangers turns into a kind of empathy reservoir within us. And then maybe that same empathy surfaces more readily the next time we’re in a disagreement with someone. Maybe that same empathy prevents us from lashing out and instead leads us to say: I see your pain. I see your fear. I see your humanity. 

I don’t know if that’s how it works, but I hope so. Because I do believe that truly seeing each other makes a difference. And maybe, in that way, my tears matter.

I’m trying to find a little light in the darkness. I’m trying to figure out how I can shine a little light in the darkness.

As I sat in the chapel, in tears and silence, I realized that probably all over the country and around the world, other people are kneeling in chapels, sitting at desks, walking the streets - all praying and crying for Las Vegas. Though our heartbreak is painful, it does remind us of our shared humanity. I hope it reminds us we’re not alone. I hope it creates solidarity and community.

Today I have a lot more questions than I do answers. So, I’m letting my initial question - do my tears matter? - propel me to sit with more questions and to hold space for others who also carry heavy questions today.

Why? Why? Why?

And also...

How can we bring healing to this broken world?

How can I make this a better world for the children I love?

What can I do - or better yet, who can I be - so that when those children grow up, shootings are a rare tragedy rather than a recurring headline?

I don’t have all the answers. But I’m reminding myself of this:

I can choose to live in this world with my eyes and heart open. 

I can choose, despite all my fears, to extend welcome and love to strangers.

I can choose courage and community instead of fear and isolation. 

I can choose hope instead of despair.

I can choose to uphold justice and extend mercy.

I can choose words and actions of grace.

I can choose to believe that a better, healthier, wholehearted world is possible.

I’ll probably wrestle with my fear and selfishness every day as I consider these choices.  But I hope that by God’s grace, I choose the better way.

And tonight, as I have for months, I’ll keep praying the words that come to mind when nothing else seems enough:

God, may your presence prevail.

[emilysnell]

A new adventure

On August 28, I’m starting down a new path. It was a long, winding road that led me to this point in the journey, and I’m excited about the steps ahead.

I won’t tell you the whole story of the long road (that would take forever & this is long enough as it is!), but I think the context of the last few months gives a cool snapshot of the work that’s been happening in my heart & mind & behind the scenes of everything else that’s completely out of my control. 

In March, I attended a weekend retreat with a bunch of people from my church. I spent the weekend with old friends and made lots of new friends. The weekend was filled with get-to-know-you conversations, so over and over I found myself answering the question, “So, what do you do?” And always, my answer would go something like this: “I work in the Business Office at Lipscomb; that’s my full-time job. I’m also a freelance writer for United Methodist Communications. That’s what I’m passionate about - that’s what I really love.” After a while, I noticed that it was impossible for me to say the first half of that answer without the second half. When you have the same words come out of your mouth repeatedly, sometimes it’s like those words smack you in the face with a new truth. At least, that’s how it felt to me. It was like a little orange flag sticking out of the dirt, saying “Hey, notice this! Pay attention!”

Now, don’t get me wrong. Working in the Business Office at Lipscomb has been a wonderful experience. I’ve learned so much about myself and other people. I’ve grown in ways I never would have imagined. I’ve had tons of opportunities to try new things, to fail and to succeed, to expand my skills and gather more knowledge. I’ve been blessed to work with people all across campus who love me and love others and love Jesus. I’ve spent time with college students who refresh my perspective on the world. I’ve spent time with staff and faculty who’ve shaped me in deep ways. A job that I expected to be a temporary fix after graduation turned into a 4-year gig, and I’m not at all sorry about that because I’ve been learning and growing consistently.

But having that conversation repeatedly during retreat weekend was an opportunity to notice what gives me energy and what takes it away, what do I really truly love, what brings life...

A couple of months after that, I traveled to Kansas City for my dear friend Missy’s wedding. That weekend I had a really important conversation with Bre (a bridesmaid/best friend of Missy’s and now a new friend of mine!), and it gave me another opportunity to take notice. Bre and I were talking about work, and I was sharing with her about the retreat experience. (Two months later and I was still processing - obviously, it was important.) As we talked about career opportunities and passions, I told Bre that I wondered if fear was one of the main things holding me back. Fear that I’m not good enough to do what I really want to do, fear that I won’t actually love it if I’m doing it all the time, fear of leaving what’s comfortable, fear of the unknown... For years now, I’ve known that I don’t want fear to be what makes my decisions for me. So saying those words to Bre and acknowledging them in my own heart was a big step forward on the path.

As I started looking online at jobs that were available, that fear started creeping up on me even more. Everything I found in the publishing industry or in marketing and communications seemed out of reach. I don’t feel qualified. I don’t have the experience they want. How will I ever get into this field, especially if I can’t even get started because I don’t have what I need?? I was getting discouraged, and fear was starting to win.

Then on June 19 I found a job listed on the Discipleship Ministries website. The description said the application deadline was June 20. (That’s the next day in case you skipped right over that!) You can call the timing a coincidence if you want, but I call it Divine. The job didn’t really sound like my long-term dream, but it seemed like something I could do and it was at an agency with a mission I knew I supported.

And now two months later, after applying, interviewing, and being hired I know that this job is a gift from the Lord. A perfect opportunity to bridge the gap that seemed to be impeding my path. In my new role at The Upper Room, I’ll be using the administrative skills that I’ve developed at Lipscomb, while also being exposed to the publishing world. Hopefully I’ll have opportunities to do some freelance projects, and maybe eventually I’ll even have a chance to shift to a full-time communications role. I truly view this as the best thing the Lord could have placed in my hands. It’s such a gift!

As I prepare for next Monday - my first day at a new organization - I celebrate this treasure, I embrace this new opportunity to grow. And while I experience all of my own emotions, I also want to recognize others. Holding space is something I’ve been learning about the last 12 months. I want to be present in my own life and also be present for those whose experiences are different from my own. 

So, in these moments of gratitude, I want to acknowledge the fact that these sweet graces sometimes seem rare. Several people I love are walking through a very hard season of job searching. I know the heartache they endure. As they search and wait and hope, I wish I could take away some of their stress. Unfortunately, I don’t have answers to make it easier. I don’t really know how to shine a light in their darkness sometimes. But I’m doing my best to stand with them and to respect the difficulty of the journey. And I’m also going to celebrate and be grateful for the gift I’ve been given... Because I know they’d want me to do that. I’m going to hope they receive that same gift soon. And when they do, we’ll celebrate that their burden has been lifted!

Friends and family, as you struggle with this bumpy career path, know that I see you. I won’t try to offer you platitudes. I won’t make promises about the future. But I will share what I believe is true. Know that this season won’t last forever. (Even if it feels like there’s no end in sight, don’t believe the lie!) Know that you’re not alone. I think the best thing I can share is a lesson I learned this summer. God is always working. So, hold onto that. Rest and trust. Let your community be the support you need. Preach truth to yourself when you’re tempted to despair. And remember that God is always working.

[emilysnell]

Ray

When I first met Ray, I felt a little uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure what to think about this man - his dirty shirt, his disheveled appearance, the way he seemed to never quite look you in the eye. But over time, I came to realize just how fun Ray was, just how intelligent he was, just how interested and varied his life experiences had been.

Ray knew so much about so many things. He could talk with you about music, about cities, about all sorts of trivia. He loved to make jokes and could carry on a conversation about almost anything.

Eventually, I learned that his poor eyesight was probably the reason I thought he wasn’t looking me in the eye. I learned about his creative mind and his fun spirit. I learned that he had been a part of The Contributor since its beginning. He was vendor #0001 after all.

I never did quite put together all of the pieces of where Ray had lived and the experiences he’d had. But I came to understand that his life history was broad and interesting. And I came to understand that he really cared about the people in his life.

Like so many of our vendors at The Contributor, Ray taught me not to judge people by their appearances, not to be turned away by what you see on the exterior but to look deeper and appreciate what’s below the surface. These friends teach me so much about grace, about humanity, about resilience, about truly seeing. I will be forever grateful to these men and women who help me see a more whole picture of the human experience.

As we say goodbye to those who leave us, I think it’s sometimes hard to know how to make sense of it all. These lives that belong to our friends - sometimes they are lives filled with pain and sorrow and struggle. And yet they’re also filled with glimpses of beauty, lessons of truth, moments of goodness and growth.

I didn’t know Ray well, but I’m thankful for what he taught me about this world, about this life we all live together, about seeing and embracing what’s not always immediately visible.

Thanks, Ray. Rest in peace.

...................................................................

Friends, I’d love for you to support my homeless/formerly homeless friends in their micro business work with The Contributor. If you’re curious about this organization, I’d be happy to talk with you about it. I LOVE sharing about this beautiful place and its people. 

http://thecontributor.org/donate 

[emilysnell]

Walking toward racial justice

This is going to be a long journey. But it’s a journey worth the effort. 

I want to tell you about the road I’ve been on. I want to share my story so that maybe it will encourage you. Maybe you’re on this road too. Or maybe you want to be but you feel a little lost. Or maybe you’re not sure why this road even matters. I hope my travels so far will be of help as you determine where your own travels should take you.

In 2017, I’ve learned a lot about racial justice and racial reconciliation. I’ve been listening to people whose experiences are different from my own. I’ve been watching/reading/listening to stories and trying to figure out where I fit in our messy, divided society.

I can’t remember exactly how long, but for a year or two, I’ve been feeling a pull to understand more about our racial divides - the history of what brought us here and what continues to separate us. I see pain and division and injustice, and I want to be a part of bringing healing, working toward reconciliation, and fighting for what’s right. But it’s hard for me to know what that looks like.

For several months, I was mostly motivated by guilt. As a white person, I feel very deeply connected to the problem, even if my direct role in it has been small. The reality is, I haven’t always been a voice of justice when I had the chance to speak. Far too often and for far too long, I’ve been silent. I knew I wanted to change that, but I struggled to know what to do.

I came across an organization called Showing Up for Racial Justice, and I thought maybe that was going to be it for me - maybe that’s where I should plug in. I followed them on Facebook and watched their events calendar, but every time I planned to attend, something got in the way. The night of President Obama’s farewell address, I intended to go to SURJ’s meeting. But at the last minute, I decided not to go. I felt such inner turmoil. I couldn’t figure out what was holding me back, but then I realized that my motivation was guilt instead of love. No wonder it wasn’t working.

I decided to give myself grace, to be patient, and to ask the Lord what the next right step would be. And it became clear - I’m engaged in a university community for a reason. There are tons of opportunities to learn and grow and hear from diverse people. Maybe I should start here. And maybe I should start with a little personal education, too.

So, that’s what I’ve done. Since the beginning of 2017, here are some things I’ve engaged in to educate myself:

*I listened to NPR American Chronicles: Civil Rights. It’s a great 3-hour audio about civil rights stories throughout the centuries. You’ll hear about some familiar names, but mostly it’s about great people you’ve probably never heard about who stood for what they believed in.

*I watched the documentary “13th” as a part of Lipscomb’s HumanDocs event and listened to a panel discussion afterwards. The documentary isn’t easy to watch - especially if you’re politically conservative, you may feel like your toes are being stepped on - but it’s an important perspective on our nation’s justice/incarceration system.

*I attended a forum where Captain Ronald Johnson, leader of the Ferguson, Mo. police operation, spoke about his experiences after Michael Brown’s death. He shared some great truths about recognizing our own biases and developing respect across divisive lines.

*I’m reading “The New Jim Crow” by Michelle Alexander. It’s very academic and I’m very slow, so I’m only a few chapters in. But so far it gives a thorough historical picture of injustice, and I know it’s going to really make me think deeply about incarceration and injustice on a large scale in our nation.

*At a church retreat the last weekend in March, I participated in a group discussion with people who are passionate about racial justice. We talked about why we care, why we want to be involved, what we can learn, what we struggle with, etc. It was a great place to sit with people who feel the same way I do and to get connected with more resources for learning and engaging. And I was challenged by a statement along these lines: when the feet under your dinner table are different colors, that’s one of the best ways to learn about racial justice.

*Tonight, I attended a panel discussion with some African American male students at Lipscomb who shared about some of their experiences on campus and their ideas for making our communities better.

I am incredibly thankful for the opportunities I’ve had already this year to hear from people who think and care deeply - wise people with a wide variety of experiences and ideas. It’s been a blessing and a good way for me to be challenged to examine myself and my communities.

In this process, it’s been important for me to practice listening with an open mind and an open heart, to try to set aside my biases and experiences and truly hear/see the people in front of me, to take it in without judgment & treat it as an opportunity for learning.

While I feel like I’m taking very important steps to educate myself and grow, I also recognize how my fears still hold me back. 

I have yet to have a one-on-one conversation about this topic with someone whose skin is a different color than mine. I think I’ve been hiding in the structure and safety of organized events. It’s not that I don’t want to talk individually with the people I love. It’s just that I don’t feel like I know how, and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t want anyone to feel that they’re being put on the spot or that I’m expecting them to speak for their whole race or culture. I don’t want to make anyone feel more isolated/separated/disconnected.

I grew up in a small town that was 98% white, and I find myself - almost always - in settings where white people are the majority. And I think that has really inhibited my ability to feel competent in this type of discussion. I tend to run away from situations where I feel outside my skill set. I like to feel confident, competent, capable...and starting a conversation about racial & cultural differences is unfamiliar and, thus, doesn’t lend itself to those feelings.

One of the guys on the panel tonight made a comment about being able to embrace the discomfort & have a conversation, and that seems to be a key lesson for me to learn. That’s probably my next right step on this journey - summoning the courage to move into the discomfort and have a genuine, unstructured conversation with someone.

More learning still to come, friends. If you’re on this journey too, I’d love to hear how you’re learning and growing. Any resources you’d recommend? Or if you’re like me and you’ve let fear or guilt paralyze you, what’s still holding you back?

Wherever you are, remember that you’re not alone. Let’s walk together.

[emilysnell]

Seeing. And holding space.

Today after church, as I ran errands, did homework, and drove around town, I saw people - saw their faces and simply appreciated their existence as I passed them on the sidewalk or interacted with them at the cash register. I noticed things - children, birds, trees, the shades of orange, yellow, pink, purple and blue as the amazing sunset changed the sky tonight. I observed and practiced gratitude. The gratitude part was easy after the observing part happened.

Maybe the reason I don’t feel grateful sometimes is because I don’t really see. Maybe I’m walking around doing life with my eyes shut. On the days that my eyes are open, I can’t help but be thankful. Of course, there are days when having our eyes open causes our hearts to break because we truly see the pain of those around us. Living life with open eyes and an open heart... I guess, some days it’s easy & beautiful & joy-filled and other days it’s hard & painful & a little dark. Life. Brutiful - beautiful and brutal.

But today was a beautiful day, and I absolutely, fully enjoyed it.

In case you didn’t know, or if you’re like me and sometimes you forget, life really is most fulfilling when our calendars and schedules and to-do lists are less full. 

I’m a chronic list maker, and I’m easily sucked into the idea that productivity is the best way to feel satisfied. Get a lot done, cross all those things off your list, you’ll feel so accomplished. But mostly that gets me into trouble because my lists are way too long and no matter how much I cross off, things are still undone or I just feel tired more than anything else.

I fall into the trap of trying to be as efficient as possible, trying to get the most done in the least amount of time, hurrying everywhere... and when I’m in that mindset, traffic is always too slow, lines are always too long, people get in my way. That’s not how I want to live. So, today, I let myself move slower and I told myself that it was ok. And I told myself that it was ok if other people moved slowly. And it really was ok.

I’m at the end of a productive, busy, tiring season. I’m truly very grateful for all that I’ve been able to learn and experience in this season, and I know I’ll spend a long time really learning the lessons of this season, really figuring out what it looks like to carry these experiences with me into the next season. I’m grateful - grateful that it happened and grateful that it’s (almost) over. 

As this season ends and the next one begins, I’m looking forward to intentionally living less productively and more fully. I’m excited about being with people and really seeing & hearing them. I’m not my best self when I’m focused on my list, so I’m determined to focus on presence & people rather than productivity in this next stage.

Something I’ve been learning about and trying to live into in the last few months is the idea of holding space for people. Specifically, I want to understand and embody what it means to hold space for people’s differences. I want to understand who I am and who you are and how we’re different from one another. I want to see the differences, be curious about them, learn about them, respect them, be together with you while we be our true, different ourselves. And I want that to be ok. More than ok, maybe I want us to know that our ability to be together in our differences is fundamental to our humanity, to our coexistence. I think that’s what I need in this season. I think that might be what our whole world needs, in this season and far into the future.

Holding space for people’s differences... it’s an idea I really love, but honestly, right now I’m bad at it. It’s hard for me. It’s hard for me to let you be you when you is different from me. :) It’s hard for me to be centered, to know myself, to stand here as me and also to stand next to you while seeking to see & understand & respect & not try to change you. It would be so much easier if you’d just be more like me, talk like me, think like me, act like me. It’s uncomfortable to be together in our differences. But I want to learn to hold space for those differences because I love you. Because I trust that Jesus made both of us. Because I believe that when we love each other and trust Jesus, good things happen. Again, I love the idea... when it comes to the living it out part, I have a long road ahead. But I’m trying to be aware. I’m trying to make room. I’m trying to see and to create space. 

I think that creating space for you and your differences starts with creating space for myself. My ability to hold space for your differences is contingent on my ability to hold space for myself - to allow myself to rest, to allow myself to be who I am (all of my experiences, mistakes, skills, failures, personality quirks, relationships...all of it). In this way, I see how our ability to have self-compassion directly correlates to our ability to have compassion for others. I’ve read it in books, heard it from therapists & friends & teachers... we can’t have compassion for others if we don’t have compassion for ourselves. I don’t like that. I don’t want to believe that. I don’t fully understand that truth. And yet, today, the concept clicked for me in a new way when I realized that my ability to love others well is dependent on my practicing healthy patterns, taking care of myself, making space for rest & slowness & seeing. When I create space for myself, when I’m compassionate with myself, when I treat failure as my teacher, I’m much more able to hold space for you, to be compassionate with you, to point you toward kindness & hope & positivity when you make mistakes.

I made space today, and I’m so very glad I did. And I hope that as I continue to make space, maybe you’ll start to make space for yourself too. And then we can start being together, collectively holding space for our differences, building a strong container - seeing and appreciating and being. Together.

[emilysnell]

This year...

Tomorrow I turn 27, so I went out in this gorgeous fall weather today and did one of my favorite things (my best gratitude practice). And while I walked, I spent a little time thinking about what this year has taught me.

This year I learned:

To try new things. 

To make mistakes and be ok with it.

To celebrate life.

To mourn with those who mourn. 

To say yes to things that make me uncomfortable but that help me embrace life.

To say no when that’s what’s best.

To remember and make room for my passions.

To recognize my limitations.

To dedicate time to friends and family - near and far - because loving and being loved help me feel more whole.

To acknowledge and appreciate what I can bring to the table.

To see people.

To hold space for myself and others.

To fight back with joy and gratitude.

To be patient with myself.

That my relationship with God is continually a work in progress.

That God is my constant teacher and healer and helper and provider of amazingly good gifts.

That I’m stronger and braver than I think I am.

That I’m more fragile than I’d like to admit... and that admitting it to myself and others is important.

That community, honesty, vulnerability, and courage are the things that bring healing and defeat shame and make life more full.

That being an awake, caring, engaged, thinking, feeling, hopeful human is hard.

That I’m deeply blessed with good health, good people, a good life.

That I still have a lot to learn.

So, here’s to another year of living and learning and enjoying the journey!

[emilysnell]

Tom and Elaine

This week my grandparents have been married 60 years. This Sunday is Mother’s Day (obviously). And my grandma’s birthday is this month. I guess you could say these events have me feeling nostalgic... and mostly feeling incredibly grateful.

I know my mom and her siblings and their spouses could tell all kinds of stories about how my grandparents have helped and supported and challenged them. I know my siblings and cousins and I could share many memories of time spent at my grandparents’ house and the gifts (tangible, and most importantly, intangible) we’ve received from them.

When I think about my family - my amazing cousins and aunts and uncles - I feel so lucky, so truly blessed. I picture their faces in my mind, and I’m proud to be a part of their clan. We’re people who care, people who desire to do what’s right, people who celebrate life, people who live with gratitude. I think much of that should be credited to my grandparents and the values we’ve adopted from them.

Unfortunately, in a lot of ways we lost my grandma a long time ago. Dementia is a thief. But in a lot of other ways, my grandma continues to shape us every day. She makes us more compassionate, more thoughtful, more aware. 

I view my grandpa as the foundation of our family, our solid rock. I know that he would say The Solid Rock is our true foundation. And I also know he’d say he couldn’t have been who he is to our family without my grandma standing by his side all these years. 

Grandpa and Grandma - your life, your character, your example, the faith you instilled in us ... you’ve helped make us who we are. 

Your legacy is clearly visible in your children and grandchildren. In your 60 years of life and ministry together, you’ve made an impact on so many people. And the truths you’ve instilled in us - your kids and grandkids - have impacted even more people. We’ll keep on living in the ways you taught us, and we’ll keep on sharing your impact for many years to come.

Grandma, if you knew more fully who your children and grandchildren truly are, I think you’d be proud and grateful. We are grateful to you for the ways you’ve nurtured and shaped us, for the ways you continue to teach us and make us grow, even today.

Grandpa, the love and faith and courage you show is a testament to the God you serve and a testament to the character He’s built in you. We hope that we honor you by living with the same spirit of integrity and perseverance and generosity.

Grandpa and Grandma, you gave us yourselves and you gave us one another. And those gifts are the most precious. We treasure you. We celebrate you. We thank God for you. We love you. Happy anniversary.

[emilysnell]

Bathrooms.

After three intense hour-long role plays (and before that a lot of short role plays and lecture time and reading 250 pages of a textbook and a Rule 31 manual), yesterday I completed 40 hours of mediation training. There’s just a final paper, and then I will have finished 9 hours of graduate coursework in Conflict Management. It feels like a big accomplishment. I’ve learned a lot already, and I’m grateful for the professors and fellow students who have helped me think about life, the world, people in a new way.

One of the main purposes of mediation is to offer people who are in conflict the opportunity to say everything they need to say (reframed in a diplomatic way by the mediator, if necessary) and to hear more clearly the other person’s perspective on the situation. I think if we all took a little more time to truly listen to one another and to consider each other’s interests and needs, in addition to our own, we would be much more compassionate and thoughtful in the decisions we make and the actions we take. Having different voices, different perspectives present in the conversation enables us to be more informed as we seek to move forward in life.

With that in mind, I want to thoughtfully, carefully, honestly add my voice to a conversation on a topic that is very sensitive and seemingly very present in our national social conversation lately.

I’ve seen a lot of articles on Facebook lately (and a variety of news excerpts) on “bathroom bills.” Specifically, I’ve seen numerous people posting articles with concern about how bathroom bills allowing people to choose based on gender identity (not biology) might make bathrooms more dangerous by making sexual assault easier.

These articles about sexual assault sometimes are written by survivors of violence, so I certainly want to be empathetic and careful as I consider their concerns. I also want to be cautious in the words I use and the attitude I present on this because I’ve never really known or had a conversation with (to my knowledge) anyone who is transgender. So, I don’t pretend to know what either of these groups are going through or what they are thinking as this topic is thrown around in societal (and social media) discussions.

I know that sexual violence is a critical problem, certainly on college campuses and elsewhere, and I know that protecting people - especially children - is deeply important. I’m confused, though, by the arguments that are made about how these “bathroom bills” make people more susceptible to violence.

My understanding of the history of transgender issues and of the history of sexual assault in America is incredibly limited (basically non-existent), so again, I try to be cautious in what I say. Just like in mediation, though, I think it’s important to raise questions that get people to think in a new way or challenge their assumptions.

With that in mind, I don’t understand how bathroom bills that allow transgender individuals to choose a bathroom based on gender identity (not biology) increase the risk of violence. If the suspected increase in risk is related to diminished social stigma about going in the “wrong” bathroom, I’d like to mention that I’ve known both men and women who’ve told stories (comedic at the time) about accidentally going in the other gender’s bathroom. They weren’t challenged about entering the bathroom by anyone who observed it, and even in the bathroom when they encountered someone of the other gender, no one made any comments to them. Yes, there were awkward/surprised/confused facial expressions, but certainly nothing strong enough to prevent someone from committing an act of violence if that had been their intent in going in the bathroom. (Also, let’s not forget that there are women who perpetrate violence against women/girls, and there are men who perpetrate violence against men/boys. So, the safety/danger of a bathroom doesn’t have anything to do with laws about gender/biology.) And to my knowledge, most locations (with the exception of a few airports or bars) do not have a bathroom monitor/attendant there to keep the bathroom safe. (Really, if they are there, it’s to keep the bathroom clean, but we’ll grant that it probably adds some safety.) So, if social stigma in our current society is not enough to prevent someone from entering the “wrong” bathroom with malicious intent, and bathroom monitors aren’t there to provide security, how is any legislation regarding these bathroom bills increasing risk or increasing safety?

In the conversations about these laws, I’ve thus far not heard/seen anyone present some of the seemingly obvious (to me, at least) issues with laws on both sides. Mostly-conservative legislators who have been working on “bathroom bills” have been promoting bills that would require transgender people (regardless of biology) to use the bathroom that corresponds with the gender on their birth certificate. Likewise, mostly-liberal lawmakers who have been working on “bathroom bills” have been promoting bills that would allow transgender people to use the bathroom that corresponds with their gender identity (again, regardless of biology). With either law, you have the potential for people who look like each gender to be entering the “wrong” bathroom. For example, with the more liberal bills, you could have a man (biologically) who identifies (in gender) as a woman entering a women’s bathroom because the law allows use of the bathroom that corresponds with gender identity. Likewise, with the more conservative bills, you could have a woman who has gone through the entire gender transformation process, and is now a man - biologically and in obvious physical appearance - entering a women’s bathroom because the birth certificate says that the individual is a woman, and thus, must use the women’s bathroom. So, with either law, you can have people who look like they are going in the “wrong” bathroom. If the argument about safety then, was connected to the social stigma of seeing someone enter the “wrong” bathroom, neither the conservative or liberal laws address that issue in a beneficial/significant/meaningful way.

So, if safety really is the concern, perhaps people should be promoting legislation that requires public bathrooms to have a bathroom monitor or legislation that all public bathrooms should be completely private rooms with locking doors.

And if you’re next suggestion is going to be that transgender people should just have a third separate bathroom, my answer would be that I temporarily considered that as well. In all honesty, my thought was that transgender people are much more likely to have violence perpetrated against them, so for their own protection, maybe a private third bathroom option is safest. But we all know that “separate but equal” doesn’t work. Separate isn’t equal. And we should have all learned from the Civil Rights movement that maintaining safety while sacrificing equality is like winning the battle but losing the war.

I fully admit that I don’t have answers regarding what should be done about this topic. But I recognize that an attitude of “what should be done about this topic” treats transgender people as a problem to be dealt with, rather than as people who deserve compassion and love and fair treatment and thoughtful consideration. I know that I’ve experienced white privilege. I know that I’ve experienced financial privilege. I know that I’ve experienced privilege for being “normal” (whatever that means). Because I fit into a lot of the categories that our society considers normal/average or even special/better - in any regard, not marginalized - all too often I’ve been able to treat topics like racial equality, gay rights, immigrant rights, human dignity in many capacities as an inconvenience or as a political topic that distracts from my daily life or as a disruption to my sense of comfort. And that’s a shame. And it’s something I’m trying to change. I don’t want to treat people and their needs and feelings and desires for equal treatment as an inconvenience or as something to be simply tolerated. People are valuable, and they should be loved and treated with utmost respect because they are God’s treasured creation. They are beautiful and broken to the same degree that I am. They are loved just as much as I am.

It’s so easy to base our actions and words on fear. Fear of change, fear of those who are different, fear of so many things. I admit it. The world is a broken, scary, evil place sometimes. But the world is also a beautiful, loving, inspiring, good place sometimes. I don’t want us to base our actions on fear. I want us to base our actions on love. My hope is that love and human dignity and God-given value for every person will be the principles that guide our conversations in society and lead our decisions and move us to action.

[emilysnell]

101(ish) things in 1,001(ish) days

A blogger that I love - Kendra of The Lazy Genius Collective - inspired me to create this list. (Read more about the concept here.)  I had so much fun making it, but let me tell you, I had a hard time getting to 101! In fact, I didn’t come up with that many things. And I’m definitely too lazy to figure out the legit date for exactly 1,001 days from now. (Hence, the repeated "ish” in the title.)  Rather than make up a bunch of things that I don’t care about just to get to 101, I decided to stick with a shorter list of things that I actually feel really good about accomplishing.

These are the things I want to accomplish between January 22, 2016 and October 19, 2018:

1. Memorize U.S. Presidents. I know, I know. Didn’t everyone do this in elementary school? Well, somehow no, not everyone. 2. Learn hockey rules. I’ve been to two Preds games and have no clue what’s happening. It’s time to learn about power plays and all that other stuff. 3. Be smarter about investing. I’m currently putting money into a retirement plan, but I don’t even know what I’m actually doing. 4. Successfully eat a meal with chopsticks. As of right now, I’m too embarrassed to even try this in public. I gave it a shot for about 5 seconds once and felt very silly. But I want to make it through one meal successfully without asking the wait staff for a fork. 5. Know the names of all of the positions on a football team and basketball team and understand the differences. I really enjoy watching football and basketball, and I’d love to have a better understanding of what’s happening! I know the basic basics, but I want the expanded basics. 6. Get at least 1 more country stamped on my passport before it expires. 7. Visit Ewoetsa or Bindhu. These are my other two Compassion babies - the two I haven’t visited yet. Obviously, if I do this, that also takes care of number 6. 8. Get a master’s degree and hang the diploma on the wall. 9. Decide on a hypothetical tattoo. I think tattoos can carry beautiful stories, and I love finding out why people have their tattoos. I’ve thought before about, if I were to get a tattoo, what would it be, where would it be, and why. I may never do it. But I want to pretend that I’m going to do it...just for fun.  10. Learn one new word each month and start using it in normal life. 11. Watch 3 foreign films. There’s great stuff out there, and I’m missing it! 12. Register to vote in Tennessee. I’ve lived here for five years, and I’ve been too lazy to take care of this. That’s pitiful! And since there’s a major election around the corner, I’d say it’s about time. 13. Learn the names and locations of all counties in Tennessee and Kansas. I could fill in a quite a few of the blanks, but now that I’ve lived in these two states for a while, I’d love to have a mastery of where all these things are! And I definitely lived in Kansas too long to not have a longer list of county names in my head. 14. Go out for a fancy dinner. I never get dressed up for dinner. It seems like something that should happen at least once in 1,001 days. 15. Take a calligraphy class. 16. Create a space that I love to live in. I’m not a decorator, but I like the idea of my apartment reflecting my personality a little more than it currently does. 17. Take a girls’ trip. Memphis, Chattanooga, South Carolina, the beach? I don’t care where we go, but our trip to Atlanta was so fun that we need to make traveling a new friend tradition! 18. See Sara Bareilles in concert. 19. Tour the Wolf Hotel and underground tunnels. My hometown has some pretty legit stuff happening, and I want to see the new upgrades on the fabulous historic stuff. 20. Take a friend to Kansas. 21. Play tennis. I haven’t played in at least two years, and that’s just sad. 22. Buy a couch that I love.  23. Ask 5 friends their favorite movie and then watch them. 24. Learn one new song on the piano. I gave up on piano in middle school, and I regret it. Cliche, I know. 25. Go bowling with friends. 26. Run a 5K. That’s right I said run. I don’t run, people, but I’m willing to try it for 3.1 miles. 27. Walk a half marathon. Currently, this sounds way easier than running a 5K. 28. Get mani/pedi with Mom. I’ve never had a pedicure, and neither has Mom so this seems like a good bonding experience.  29. Spend a day with Claire. My sister-in-law is pretty great, and we don’t get to spend enough time together. 30. Take Walter to the park. I love parks, and I love my sweet nephew. Guaranteed fun. 31. Attend a sporting event with Dad and Daniel. I went to my first K-State football game with my dad when I was in 3rd grade. But lately, Dad and Daniel go without the rest of us. I want to join the party next time! 32. See a show at the Opry. I’ve lived here too long to still have this undone. 33. Take a picture in Central Park. Looking at you, Candice. 34. Rent an hour at a batting cage. I went with Ethan and Tyler and their mom, and it looked so fun. But Ethan was the only one who batted. Seems like an entertaining friend activity! If nothing else, I’ll laugh a lot... as long as I don’t get a black eye. 35. Read 5 books. This would be 5 books outside of any other books mentioned on the list. (Textbooks for grad school don’t count!) You know, just for good measure. 36. Make 5 recipes from Bread & Wine.  37. Make 5 recipes from For The Love.

38. Buy a crockpot and use it for a friend dinner date. 39. Visit DC and go to the Newseum. Jane and Rachel. On like Donky Kong. 40. Go on a walk/hike in a new location. Beth, this is all you! 41. Try boxing/kickboxing. 42. Host a “grandma” party. My friends and I joke about being old grandmas because of how much we enjoy spending our nights at home and going to bed ridiculously early. My grandma isn’t really herself these days. I have a lot of fond memories of activities at my grandparents’ house or observations of their cute habits. Some of my friends have lost grandparents recently, and I’m sure they have similar memories. So, why not have a party to honor our grandparents whether they're still with us or not? Cardigans, puzzles, decaf coffee included. 43. Visit the Music City Center. 44. Ask 5 people their favorite book and read them. 45. Read Harry Potter. I’ve watched all of the movies, haven’t read any of the books. This must be remedied. 46. Volunteer at 3 Compassion events. I love Compassion International, and it’s so fun to talk to people about my kids! I volunteered at two events last year, so three in three years seems totally doable. 47. Host a movie night in pajamas – popcorn and ice cream are mandatory. Duh. 48. Watch HIMYM in order. So many sporadic episodes... 49. Finish The Lord of the Rings books. I gave up half way through The Two Towers in high school. I just need to make it through the second half and read The Return of the King. Then I’ll have all four completed! 50. Surprise someone. 51. Visit Manhattan, walk around campus, and go to Kedzie Hall & Smurthwaite. I miss K-State and the Little Apple. I need to go back and see the Smurth and walk on the creaky steps of Kenzie Hall where my journalism education started. Manhattan in the fall. It’s my happy place. 52. Watch Gilmore Girls in order. Again with the sporadic episodes... because EVERYONE has been watching it on Netflix for the past year and you’re all in different places, and I can’t keep up with you! 53. Celebrate something. No details necessary. 54. Paint a picture. 55. Try a drink with bourbon in it. 56. Go to Florida. People in my office are shocked that I’ve never been. It does seem like kind of a shame, especially since it’s not that far away now. 57. Get a better grasp of the metric system (and conversions). Stuff I should know... 58. Read a biography. 59. Do yoga. 60. Try 10 new restaurants. Kathryn-Claire, you’ll make this easy for me. 61. Spend an afternoon at Opryland. I love the gorgeous indoor rainforest (as I like to call it) at the hotel, and it seems like the best place to spend an afternoon - people watching, reading, whatever. Study session anyone?  62. Send a Christmas card. Everyone else is doing it, so why not? Who cares that I don’t have a dog/cat/husband/roommates/any-of-the-things required for sending a Christmas card! Rebel. 63. Learn a new piece of family history. I love stories, and I ask people questions all the time for freelance work...but there’s so much about my own family that I don’t know! 64. Meet T-Swizzle. Dream on, girl. This list is supposed to be things that I can actually control. Clearly, this does not fit the criteria, but... I do what I want. 65. Understand more about human dignity. What is it? What do we unknowingly do that denies it? How can we honor and uphold it? I want to have a better grasp on this so that I can be aware of it as I live and interact with all of the human persons around me. 66. Build a snowman. Done! I took a few minutes Friday to play in the white fluffiness with Matt and Kathryn-Claire since this was the most snow Nashville’s had in a couple of decades. It was beautiful! We’re lazy and made the tiniest snowman you’ve ever seen, but it still counts.

67. Observe Lent. I’ve never really participated in Lent or focused on it much, and I’d like to change that. A couple of years ago, in the shortest little conversation at Starbucks, my sweet, wonderful friend Bridgette (probably unknowingly) inspired me to think about this more. I want to appreciate its significance more than I have in the past. 68. Finish reading a book of poetry. 69. Try something new/do something brave. I tend to let fear of unfamiliar things hinder me from trying stuff, even if it’s something small. I’d like to change that at least a little. 70. Go to a show at the amphitheater.  71. Learn more about church history and the church calendar. Similar to the Lent thing, I’ve been a Christian for a long time, but I’m becoming aware of how much I don’t know. I love tradition and understanding the meanings behind things, so I think this is a good pursuit for me. 72. Document 101(ish) things list. I know, I know 72 is not really the same as 101(ish). Whatever. It’s my list, so there. Regardless of the length of the list, I have to document all these things so I can remember the good ole days when I’m old and gray ... in 5 years. 

To life!

[emilysnell]

Rising in 2016

2016 hasn’t really started out the way I would’ve liked.

Actually, I should give 2016 a little bit of credit and say that the first 3 days of this year were wonderful. I spent the beginning of this year with extended family, watching K-State basketball & football, playing games, laughing, and having good conversations. I have some of the most amazing aunts, uncles and cousins that a person could ever hope to call family. They make me smile, they make me think, and they make me feel loved.

Then I came back to work and normal life. And let me tell you, I love my normal life! But sometimes I let the to-do list and the hustle (that dreaded word!) bury the best of me. This week has found me staring at a towering to-do list, working long hours, feeling frustrated (that’s Monday’s fault), swimming in some minor worries and fears about the next few months, making poor nutrition choices and dealing with some very tense shoulders.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few months trying to learn healthy boundaries, trying to practice rest in tangible ways, trying to do the things that help me feel fulfilled and thankful rather than overbooked and exhausted. But this week, I haven’t done any of the self-care or reflection that I know helps me live a healthy life. I’ve ignored my alarm, rushed everywhere, barely spent any time in prayer...I’ve been completely focused on what I can get done instead of focusing on who I’m being and how I’m living. And instead of feeling productive, I mostly feel tired and disappointed.

I wanted this new year to start with me feeling really healthy, thankful, and refreshed. I’m sure most people wanted the same thing. But I think it’s important for us to acknowledge when that hope doesn’t come true. And I think it’s especially important to acknowledge that those unmet desires don’t define us. Failed dreams don’t define us as failed people. If anything, they only define us as normal people.

Brene Brown has become one of my favorite authors over the last 12 months. (You should check her out. I’m in the middle of Rising Strong right now, and it’s just wonderful. The Gifts of Imperfection taught me so much in 2015. Legitimately, her books and the things she teaches have the potential to change your life.)

She said a lot of helpful words in one little post on Instagram today:

“There is no greater threat to the critics and cynics than those of us who are willing to fall because we have learned how to rise.” 

She talked about the predictable patterns that most of us fall into at the beginning of a new year. We make these great plans, and then when things don’t go as well as we had hoped, we start to believe that we are less than...

Anyway, all of that is just to say this: here I am, only 6 days into a new year, and I’m admitting that I have already failed. But I’m not letting that stop me! I’m learning slowly how to rise with more courage, more authenticity, deeper connections. And I know that part of the rising process is recognizing when we are on the ground, with our faces in the dirt. 

I’m disappointed that I’m already here. But maybe I’ll just think of it this way: the earlier you fall, the sooner you have a chance to get back up.

I’ve already put a lot on my plate this year. My plate is piled high with tasty things. Things that I’m really excited about, opportunities that I’ve been hoping for. But when I think about how many things I’m trying to do, I get a little overwhelmed. And then I feel a little fearful that maybe I’ve gone completely insane. I don’t know what it’s going to look like for me to actually do all the things and maintain my sanity and not have a permanent tight spot between my shoulder blades. I’m hoping I can figure it out.

So, here I am. Admitting that I’ve already failed at something this year - but also acknowledging that it doesn’t make me a failure. It makes me human. I’m saying it because maybe you’re already feeling it too. Too many expectations, too many resolutions that have gone wrong, too many voices telling you what you should do to be happy, healthy, worthy. 

I hope your 2016 has started out with a sense of joy and accomplishment and contentment. But if it hasn’t, I hope you know that you’re not alone. Welcome to the dirt...you can only go up from here. :)