GET UP: Women’s Empowerment Lesson 1

April 3, 2022April 14, 2022 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 6 Comments

I have been on a significant journey towards understanding Women’s Empowerment within me:

Lesson 1: the self discipline to GET UP—even when it’s hard

This is my first lesson…

“Will you consider heading up our Women’s Empowerment group?”

That was the question the Director of our local Immigrant and Refugee Center asked me, at a safe distance across her office, during the unprecedented pandemical summer of 2020.

YES! and That’s CRAZY! and I have no idea what that means… all mixed into my teary-eyed, masked-face, foggy-glasses response. What an awkward impression to make in an important work meeting—I couldn’t see clearly. Feeling isolated during quarantine, my heart craved significance and being a part of things that are bigger than me, so I agreed to ponder her proposal. Contemplation for me usually involves key words, root words, related words—word clouds storming around in my brain. I went home and scribbled empower across a blank page in my imagination and began to storm.

Empowered Women are Power-full

I don’t see myself as powerless, but I haven’t yet embraced powerful as one of the things that I am either. Attempting badass, I decided to lace up my thick-soled combat boots, and I’m still trying to break in the stiff fit. I waffle between confident and clumsy, especially with a face mask and fogged up glasses.

How badass can an already awkward, middle-aged mother of 3 even be?

Mercy, grace, and gentle kindness. I gravitate to these cozy words like I do towards a cup of chamomile tea at home in my fleece-lined slippers. These are the soft places where I want to come alongside others. But power, justice, and especially women’s empowerment—those words feel outside my zoning laws of comfort.

Girls with Dreams Become Women of Vision

In the Fall of 2020, I eagerly gathered my first Women’s Empowerment group together. I offered each woman flowers that uniquely reflected their presence in the group. Collectively, we represented four distinct ethnolinguistic groups. We spent time expressing our dreams with each other in our shared language of simple English. Some women had home businesses, some were thinking about fleeing unsafe environments, and some longed to see loved ones they had been separated from for decades. In that precious space together, we soared.

The next day, I came down with a significant, positive case of COVID-19. It felt like a slap down.

How can I lift anyone up if I am inadvertently sharing a virus that could land them down and out?

Empowered Women Don’t Give Up on Important Things

When I get nervous about things in life I can’t control, I take on a physical challenge that is the right amount of impossible and achievable to suit the situation—like climbing a 14,000-foot Rocky Mountain or learning how to ride a ripstick. Women’s Empowerment felt like a ripstick-kind of challenge. Rip-sticking made me feel young and tenacious, but it also terrified me a little. I needed suitable attire for such a venture—a safety helmet with spunk and my reliable running shoes.

Sunday afternoons I would take my ripstick and my most inspiring playlist and head for the river trail. I feared falling. But I feared failing even more. All this was on my mind as I went speeding down a subtle slope. And then I fell. Ouch! My wounded spirit immediately looked around to make sure no one saw that. My wounded knee wasn’t so bad.

I get knocked down, but I get up again…
Chumbawamba

Note to self: Add this song to my playlist.

GET UP:

My first lesson in being empowered is being persistent and not giving up on things that are important. Even when I’m scared. And even when it hurts. I got back on my ripstick with my bruised areas and finished out my Sunday adventure.

Humility is learning to live for the sake of others. I have been both haunted and inspired by this definition. I couldn’t fully grasp what this meant in my life. I was more preoccupied with falling and failing and the differences between them, that I was not learning the art of lifting.

My COVID-19 Lament

February 1, 2021February 1, 2021 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 5 Comments

Last week in a Trauma Healing group we explored the genre of lament. Lament is simply an expression of grief. And grief is mourning a loss.

Where has the genre of lament been all my life?

When we came to the exercise of writing our own lament, the turmoil of my heart flooded onto paper. I felt a deep sense of validation by this genre that had its own unique purpose and parameters.

In many ways I feel drawn to grief. Just as some people are the life of a party, I feel connected to others in times of grief–it’s when our hearts are most vulnerable and we are in a place to process raw emotions. Grief is a significant part of life, and as a culture I’m not sure we do it very well.

So here is my current lament–an expression of my grief about the pandemical state of our world. A complaint taken directly to the Divine.

My COVID-19 Lament

O God—enough is enough!

How long must people—Your people made in Your image—all over the earth suffer?

We are sick.

We are dying.

We struggle to breathe.

We are made to grieve.

How long will this go on?

You’re the One who put breath in our lungs.

You can make this stop.

You can make this matter.

We have wandered far.

Gather us back with fresh air and fresh Spirit.

Turn our eyes and our hearts and our breath towards you,

That we may cry out to you with all that is within us.

You alone are Life-Giving God for all people.

Come quickly. Bring life.

Bring healing to our bodies and souls and to all the nations.

Be the breath in our lungs and the praise on our tongues.

Praise the LORD, my soul; all my inmost being,

praise His holy name.

Praise the LORD, my soul—

The One who forgives all our sins and heals all our diseases.

I will wait on you.

I will wait for you.

I will wait with you.

I expect you to make our struggles matter.

You are worthy of all our praise with all our breath.

Then all the earth will shout Your praise.

Our hearts will cry, these lungs will sing:

Great are You, Lord. Great are You, Lord.

Corona 2020 #3: Rhythms of Quarantine

April 3, 2020April 7, 2020 ~ Georgia Coats ~ Leave a comment

Sunday, March 29: In harmony with my heart

Virtual church at 11-ish. Pilates and worship. Coffee with my Sweet. I’m grateful for his enthusiasm in making my perfect cup. I have been working on the right lyrics that are in harmony with my heart. Simon and Garfunkel always have space in my struggles. But they must be interspersed with strength of the human spirit, and the hope of worship. My heart is tender towards key words: shelter, isolation, hidden, breath…

Walking makes me feel better, and alone. The city is quiet and desolate with pockets of families huddled together.

We are defined by our safe people and everyone else. Who are the people bio-connected to each other? What about those who live alone? Who are their bio-connected “we”?

Following news out of Detroit. Things are exponentially worse. The Henry Ford hospital is where my hematologist of 15 years lives. My babies were born there. It is a state of emergency.

Michigan seems like a dream to me now… I’ve come to look for America… Michigan feels like a dream to me, too, Simon & Garfunkel.

The Value of Closure

I am struggling with closure. Some things have ended abruptly and I find they wreck me more emotionally than they would at another time. My resilience is thin. With tears, it’s best to sleep on it. If my resilience is thin, others’ is too. God, help me to see as you see.

Strong for my people. Rest. Prayer. I am ready to take a small courageous step towards healthy closure in uncertainty. Courage is fear prayed up. Yup.

Monday, March 30: It’s okay not to be okay

Ella is in tears. She feels socially limited in the middle of her brother and sister. She has done everything we have thought to do at home by lunchtime. Aimlessness brings sadness.

She needs her middle school peeps. I tell her it’s okay to cry. It’s okay not to be okay.

Magic in the little things—a fixed bike, fresh berries and a can of whipped cream. Zoe and Ella set off on a park adventure of their own. Then we make lentil soup. I see her perk up just a little.

It’s okay not to be okay.

Jamin’s new tetherball arrives from Amazon. Steve and Jamin head to his school to hook it up to the pole there. Jamin is that 5^th grader—the one who has prayed for school to end since it started. He is in a happy place.

My walks get longer and more emotional as I listen through my varied lyrics. I am weak. I am strong. It feels like winter and loneliness. I rise up. I have breath. I shelter in with people I love dearly.

It helps to have purpose and set baby goals…

I have a little space in my emotional reserves to follow up my concern for my refugee neighbor friends. I check in and brought Legos for the littles (after running them through the dishwasher). I inadvertently photobombed their cute family pic—at a distance.

Seeing their faces made my heart happy. 😊

I walk in the rain and the sunshine. I am oscillating. Laughing. Crying. Purposefulness. Aimlessness. Weight of the world. Isolation. Safety. And Fear.

Everyone check in with someone, ok?

Celebrating my small mom victories. My kids seem more settled. Cake pops made. Tetherball played. Lentil soup is perfectly seasoned comfort food—reminiscent of homemade dhal from a past season of life and friendship.

Brother, let me be your shelter

Never leave you all alone

I can be the one you call when you’re low. NeedtoBreathe

I hug my people. I have people to touch and kiss. We pray together anticipating the new day. The new school schedule. A plan. A purpose. We pray that summer camp won’t be canceled.

Tuesday, March 31: Collecting scattered thoughts

Everyone sets an alarm. Online school is starting, and we have family implementation plans in place. Ella is chattery about her teachers and friends. Her eyes light up. Jamin is moaning but following the plan. Zoe persists with vigor in all her endeavors. Steve’s virtual work continues per usual. I write 3 new virtual meetings set on my empty calendar.

Time to write. To think. To be alone with my thoughts in my bustling home. Interruptions are frequent. Flexibility of this new norm.

Clarity of thought. Processing negative emotions in healthy ways. Moving forward.

Deep breath. I will turn on the news.

Physical goals: Engage my core muscles more often—to that end, wear less leggings and more regular pants. Walk a little further. Add a few extra sit ups, crunches, or pushups each time I do some. Baby steps in physical exercise make me feel like I can control something. And move forward in something.

Wednesday, April 1: Tears are my superpower

Aimlessness is real.

Scheduling is helpful.

Technology is frustrating.

Closure…find closure where you can on even the little things, since so many things ended or were put on pause so abruptly.

Zoe and I enjoy the show: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. Episode 8—Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch—was so embarrassingly awkward. The main character can’t stop herself from bursting out in song to express her deep, undealt with emotions.

I courageously show up for my meeting to find closure, and I cry through the second half of it. I guess I’m still not ok and it’s going to come out somewhere—like Zoey does with song and dance in the show, I do with tears. Closure on this one thing feels good and right and satisfying. But I’m still crying. Awkward, but unapologetic. Express gratitude. Everyone’s resilience is thin. It’s okay not to be okay.

Rollerblading with my girls is a sweet time on a beautiful day. Normal, not normal. Strange, not strange. No one is out. Everyone is distant on a college campus in spring. I feel simultaneously content and overwhelmed. We go about our days distancing, while others can’t breathe. And others die. How does closure come for loved ones who experience loss?

At the end of the day I’m both relieved and bummed that there were no innovative April Fool’s jokes going on at our house. Not in a place to create and laugh and bounce back just yet.

Thursday, April 2: Wearing mascara doesn’t prevent tears

Time to face my fledgling teaching plan. A meeting with my boss. I teach adults. Moms like me who show up to my English language class after their kids are settled in school. I can just barely settle my kids to move forward with a plan of any kind. I barely have a moment to catch up with my own thoughts and emotions… innovation is measly and uninterrupted minutes to wade through emails and move towards problem-solving are things from that other life realm.

Deep breath. Grateful for the closure I found yesterday. Like the strategy for debt snowball—knocking out smaller debts first.

Moving forward.

It’s okay not to be okay. But it’s not okay to cry in this team meeting with my boss. Maybe mascara will help prevent tears.

I choose Pilates and prayer over fine-tooth-comb reading all the pertinent email strings before my meeting.

Deep breath, again. In for 3, out for 4.

🎶 And I’ll rise up…

I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
For you… 🎶

Innovation, momentum, problem-solving and resilience—in short supply. Like ventilators for patients and masks for healthcare workers.

Mascara does not help prevent displaced tears in zoom meetings. But actively turning off video or audio as needed provides a sense of control over the little things.

And having a boss who hears you… doesn’t prevent tears either.

It’s cold today. There is no mustering of motivation to run the track. No energy to even think about trying to psych myself up for more than a cold, grey walk.

Listening to Simon and Garfunkel and remembering that time when I was on an island. And I missed my boat. And I cried about it… 😭💕🏝

🎶 I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room,
safe within my womb
I touch no one and no one touches me

I am a rock
I am an island
And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries 🎶

Islands are surrounded by salt water… you would never know if they were crying.

Overwhelmed and grateful. I am definitely not an island.

Corona 2020 #2: Deep Breath

April 3, 2020April 5, 2020 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 1 Comment

Sunday, March 22: Small successes make us stronger

Virtual church in our home—that’s a good family rhythm. Coffee with my Sweet. Pilates during worship.

Deep breath. The sun is shining. We know how to rally as a family. We’ve done that before.

I learned in grad school that when things get really challenging, it helps to take on doable physical challenges. Before graduation, I was standing on my head for a solid 3 minutes or more. Today I take on my ripstick—I haven’t done that since our move to Colorado in 2018. I went further on the Poudre trail than I have ever gone on my ripstick.

I can do this. All of this.

Drive-ins—a social distancing spring break treat post family physical activity. Sonic is Mommy’s rare and spontaneously fun fried treat. Desperately wishing I could wash my hands, the Sonic manager offers us disinfectant wipes at our window. It’s the best she could do. And I was thankful.

Monday, March 23: Empathy and grief set in

Emotions are so mixed up. I can alternate tears and laughter without taking a breath. I think the complexity of emotion keeps me going. Empathy is a part of me. So is shared laughter. I can’t shut out the hurt of the world. I have to find a way in it.

Grief sets in as social media pours out the news of loved ones’ sick loved ones. There are people who can’t breathe. I feel pressure around my own lungs. Or is it my heart?

I got this song stuck in my prayers…

🎶 You give life, You are love
You bring light to the darkness
You give hope, You restore
Every heart that is broken
Great are You, Lord

It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
We pour out our praise
It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise to You…

And all the earth will shout Your praise
Our hearts will cry, these bones will sing

Great are You, Lord 🎶

Zoe bakes her first berry pie. Yum. She has been painting and creating and plotting a socially distant picnic with a neighbor friend. She makes beautiful things. She makes me smile… with teary eyes. She is filled with purpose and plans and projects.

Wednesday, March 25: To be seen and heard

I have a regularly scheduled virtual meeting with my colleague. She hears exhaustion in my voice and heartache in my rhythm. I needed her to say that I didn’t seem ok. Someone noticed. Someone said something. I try to hold back immediate tears. I’ll save them for later. My tear bank is robust. I am tired. I am overwhelmed.

Thursday, March 26: The good, the bad, and the garbanzo beans

A walk with a friend. I bring her chickpeas and pass them at a safe distance. Canned goods are hard to come by at the grocery store and she is a garbanzo lover like myself. It feels good to do a little good. Colorado is in full shelter in place mode now. Stores close earlier. People might start to panic.

I think I am among the immunocompromised. I google articles about leukemia patients, those on immunotherapies in relation to Covid-19. I should be extra cautious.

Speaking of Covid-19… I read a comment comparing the “Covid 19” to the “Freshman 15!” Hard to curb the quarantine baking spree. I love that there are so many things to laugh together about.

Steve and I have an important virtual work meeting. The meeting delivered bad news. Not really anything to do with pandemic, just regular life bad news. It hits hard. It feels like rejection. Emotions are already at the surface and reserves of faith and grace and strength and resilience have already been reallocated.

Sprycel—my leukemia miracle med—is delivered as usual. Check. The UPS man doesn’t ask me to sign for this pricy parcel. He just leaves it and waves.

I slip out for a run on the track as I pour out my heart in my prayer. My regular running playlist doesn’t seem fitting anymore.

Why is motivation so hard?

Goal setting. That’s my specialty. First, identify barriers: It’s hard to get to goals when you’re in the midst of grief. Mourning and gratitude are both necessary. But if you haven’t mourned, it’s hard to move forward.

Steve and I zoom in with our community group. Thursday night is our regularly scheduled hangout time—part of our familiar chorus.

I’m still not okay.

News of people sick, dying, or singing out their windows is global.

Urgency and exhaustion in the voices of healthcare professionals.

More emails regarding upcoming online school than I can process.

Loved ones have sick ones.

I worry for the most vulnerable, like my resettled refugee friends and pregnant mom friends.

I worry for my healthcare provider friends.

I am in tears for a hurting world.

Check in with your inner self. Practice heart presence. Breathe…. Oh yeah.

Steve gets a stern and caring reminder from our doctor friend to be extra cautious with his immunocompromised wife. Clarity. Caution. Heartfelt concern.

Friday, March 27: Emotional backlog

Things have to change. My heart is being pressed in on all sides. Everyone is caring about something else. I feel isolated with the whole world. I am.

So much has halted. So much to process. An emotional backlog. So many people going through something and the same things. Momentum is gone in most of life’s places.

Deep breath.

I decide to start collecting the songs I need for this new rhythm of life.

I choose carefully how often I watch the news. Today there is a healthy flow of tears watching a video montage of communities rising up and joining together.

🎶 And I’ll rise up
I’ll rise like the day
I’ll rise up
I’ll rise unafraid
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
And I’ll rise up
High like the waves
I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
For you… 🎶

Thank you, Andra Day. Put that one on the playlist.

Saturday, March 28: Naming negative emotions

I cross out lots of things on my calendar that didn’t happen and that won’t happen. Good thing I write in pencil. Saturday is Ella’s choice for special breakfast. A rich cup of coffee with my Sweet. Pilates and prayers. My whole body feels heavy.

I have dealt with difficult things before. I cry. I walk. I sleep. I pray. I listen—to truth, to hope, to sadness. To divine whispers.

It’s helpful to just be present with negative emotions… 😕♥️
• grief—of losses big and small
• guilt—that we should be doing more, less, something else
• fear—of things we can’t control
• disappointment—of unfulfilled expectations
• discouragement—too many overwhelming things to take in at once
• sadness…
• madness…
•
🤲🏼👣

Tomorrows have no structure. We are oscillating between aimlessness and creativity’s blank page. Setting goals seems like such an uphill journey.

Corona 2020 #1: Cancellations & Celebrations

April 3, 2020April 3, 2020 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 2 Comments

Friday, March 13: Seismic shifts

What a strange and beautiful day. I left early on a birthday hike to celebrate my friend’s 40^thbirthday. We had the Twin Sisters trail to ourselves as we hiked through mounds of freshly fallen snow. I shared my Middle Eastern date cookies with her as a birthday treat. I had just brought them back from Michigan three days earlier. As we hiked, we processed the strange potential things that might happen, and we pondered the impact of recent social encounters and future plans.

Sharing cookies… that feels thoughtful and delightful and celebratory.

It was my kids’ last day of school before spring break. I knew I would arrive home post-hike to shifting sands.

And then the onslaught of virtual communication rushed in—every entity I am involved with is sending out emails of closure and postponement.

My kids dance around the living room celebrating the news of a second week of spring break, a.k.a., enrichment week, as the world is shutting down.

Saturday, March 14: Queen of flexibility

In normal life, I work 4 very fulfilling, part-time jobs—mainly, nonprofits, self-employment, and contract work. I am queen of finding rhythm with flexibility and faith through many changing seasons of my various jobs. And half my work is already virtual.

I got this.

Bring on change.

Bring on the unknown.

Bring on kids at home and the anticipation of spring.

Let’s keep dancing around the living room and watch as many movies as we can think of, and eat large bowls of white cheddar popcorn.

Sunday, March 15: Clean hands and pure hearts

This is ominously exciting. The CDC cancelled church gatherings of 150 or more, but our small community group is getting together to watch it virtually and enjoy Sunday brunch together. In the celebration of slowing down the pace of life and being together, there is a growing sense of urgency for quarantining. Some have opted out of our physical gathering.

Keep your hands clean and move to toe touches and elbow taps.

🎶 Give us clean hands, give us pure hearts
Let us not lift our souls to another

O God let us be a generation that seeks
That seeks your face O God of Jacob

O God let us be a generation that seeks
That seeks your face O God of Jacob 🎶

I timed it… this chorus is a solid 30 seconds of prayer AND proper hand washing.

I love finding hope, meaningful connection, and laughter in challenging situations.

Monday, March 16: Plans proceed but toilet paper is scarce

We have summer camp coming up in July. Kids need their wellness checkups. It’s going to be a highly productive spring break. I got two out of three kids went in the health clinic for physicals and vaccinations. People wore masks and signs were posted about being cautious.

Toilet paper is a weird crisis. We forgot to pick up our usual stash at Sam’s Club last month. Oops! I feel more and more compelled to join the bandwagon of fear and scarcity. Don’t panic… we’ll find some.

In the restroom at the local medical center for my kid’s wellness checkup…

Experiencing a new kind of temptation 😳🧻🧻

Tuesday, March 17: A cold coming on

Ella’s wellness checkup is cancelled. That seems to be the new rhythm. Most things left on the calendar are also being cleared. I feel a cold coming on and my mind trails to all the places I’ve been and the people I’ve touched. I start to rethink some of our spring break interactions… and sharing date cookies.

Wednesday, March 18: Rhythm in chaos

When the winds of change disrupt normal life, I find it helpful to hold on to a familiar chorus—a loose framework of routine and rhythm. I enjoy a morning cup of coffee with my Sweet. I run the empty track at the middle school. I do regular bouts of Pilates and prayers.

My throat is sore and I dig out the thermometer. No fever. All three times.

My mom calls. She’s worried about our lack of toilet paper. My dad unpacks meat from his freezer and finds our favorite kind of Greek cheese at the restaurant depot. We arrange a socially distant walk at a park halfway between our cities. No hugs. No kisses. Just a transfer of food items and a lovely stroll. The sun is in full shine, but road signs are flashing to brace for an impending winter storm.

Still no fever. I would feel horrible if I were the one to compromise my parents’ health in their late 70s.

Thursday and Friday are cold and dark and snowy. No place to go. Every cough makes me a little nervous. Still no fever. Ella coughs and sniffles. No fever.

Saturday, March 21: Keep baking, keep running, keep dancing

The week went by so quickly. It wasn’t much of a spring break—except for excessive movie watching and creative baking and spontaneous dance parties. Keeping our rhythm–Saturday pancakes. The dog park is perfect for social distancing. Another run on the middle school track while the gym is closed and the weather is decent.

On My Mind

by Georgia

COVID-19

GET UP: Women’s Empowerment Lesson 1

Empowered Women are Power-full

Girls with Dreams Become Women of Vision

Empowered Women Don’t Give Up on Important Things

GET UP:

My COVID-19 Lament

My COVID-19 Lament

Corona 2020 #1: Cancellations & Celebrations

Friday, March 13: Seismic shifts

Saturday, March 14: Queen of flexibility

Sunday, March 15: Clean hands and pure hearts

Monday, March 16: Plans proceed but toilet paper is scarce

Tuesday, March 17: A cold coming on

Wednesday, March 18: Rhythm in chaos

Saturday, March 21: Keep baking, keep running, keep dancing