Sometimes I feel unheard. Sometimes I grieve for others in marginalized spaces whose intrinsic worth is often underestimated. Sometimes I try madly to see and hear and notice what could get overlooked. I wish no one ever felt like they don’t matter. Sometimes those feelings overwhelm me–and so, I lament.
From the secret whispers of the unheard;
From the hidden places of the overlooked;
From the tarnished treasure of the underestimated…
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Who hears the cries of your cherished children? Why do they scream out loud or sob in dark corners unheard?
Who can see their wounds—the scars beneath the skin? Why do the vulnerable get overlooked?
Who looks down to notice what everyone else tramples on? Why are some underestimated?
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Like an attentive mother hears the uneven rhythm of a newborn’s breath, you hear the sobs and whispers of your little one’s erratic heart.
Like a curious child seeking seashells in the sand, you see with wonder those trampled down beneath the surface.
As Your best creative craftsmanship, you unfold the secret potential of your treasured ones.
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When we feel muted, you whisper we are worthy.
When we feel invisible, you see our vulnerable places.
When we feel underestimated, you value our treasured potential.
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O Lord, reveal to me Your secret wonders.
Guide me to Your diamonds in rough places.
Open my ears to the whispered rhythms of praise and resilience and worth that could be missed.
These stones are to be a memorial to the people forever.
Joshua4:5-7
I paced up and down the gated driveway. I felt trapped inside the iron gate as cars whizzed by in this unfamiliar corner of the world. Even if I did venture beyond the gate, there was nowhere for me to go. A smaller mission would have to suffice. I continued to pace up and down the drive looking for the perfect stone. Nothing too ostentatious. I did have to fly home with it in my little orange suitcase. Flat, paintable, able to be cradled in the palm of my hand. The fascinating flora in our enclosed community felt like a lush green oasis. But in reality, we were on the outskirts of the ginormous city of Bogota—the wiles of concrete and winding roads.
In order to complete my mission, my precious stone would have to be plucked out of the driveway. I found a less-used corner of the drive that was made up of dirt, concrete, and a variety of rocks packed down by busses full of human cargo regularly deposited at the oasis. Would anyone notice one small rock dug out of the drive? I was willing to take that risk. I curled my fingernails around the underside of a small grey stone and popped it out of its firm dirt casing. I looked around nervously as I brushed off the dirt, wondering if I had triggered the alarms to sound. I slipped the rock into my pocket and went in search of my new friends for tinto–a Colombian coffee break between seminary classes.
Each of you is to take up a stone… Part 1 of the mission accomplished.
Part 2 of the Mission:In the Future…
It sounds easy, but from decades of rock collecting, I knew that keeping track of my stone from June until November amidst the bustle of normal life was no easy task. The goal:
Don’t lose the rock.
Don’t forget which small, grey, unexceptional stone came from that risky mission in that specific faraway corner of the world.
Part 3 of the Mission: To Serve as a Sign
The idea is to encapsulate the essence of 2021 in a word, in a sacred Scripture, and within the boundaries of a small stone and a limited array of paint markers.
Humility was something my husband Steve and I were growing more familiar with this year—learning to live for the sake of others. Learning to offer our whole selves. Learning to delight in the offerings of others. Learning to let God do the heavy lifting, in the privileged places alongside some of His most precious children—Zoe, our oldest daughter, and her steps towards leaving our nest; Ella, our middle girl, as she navigates the wild world of a huge high school; Jamin, our middle schooler, and his newly kindled motivation to understand grammar and poetry and success in learning;
Khalid* the translator and his very real struggles of translating holy Scriptures for his own people in another part of the world;
Cesar* the young linguist who settled on the far side of the sea, learning a language no outsider has yet studied;
Naya*, the bright teen I hope doesn’t slip through any cracks;
Yendra and the gift of deepening friendship;
The unique personalities and intense stories that come out of my interactions as a Community Navigator at our local Immigrant and Refugee Center;
The sometimes overwhelming gift of being a good listener;
The adventure of sitting on the Council of Elders—the heartbeat of our church—pondering and praying for the deeper complexities of a thriving church family.
Touring college campuses. Sitting through countless doctor, dentist and vaccination appointments in service to others. The small, daily work of dropping off and picking up precious preschool cargo. Travels to Colombia, Kenya, and Germany—and all the wonderful and difficult places Steve and I connect with virtually as an International Media Consultant and a Language Learning Coach, respectively.
The year has been full. Our position in the lives of others is privileged. Access to people’s hearts is always accompanied by joy and sorrow–the practice of rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn, our emotions trying to keep up with the quick tempos of life. 2021 has been full of struggle and victory and pain and celebration and barrier and clarity. The rhythm slows just long enough for a deep breath and a moment of beautiful surrender.
Our 2021 Stone:
Location: Colombia
Word: Lifted
Scripture: 1 Peter 5:6
Humble yourselves under God’s mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time.
I don’t know who God will lift, or when. But He will. In due time.
And if we are in the privileged space to see Him do any of the heavy lifting or launching—then we too are lifted up.
The Greater Mission: What Do These Stones Mean?
After a lifetime of this familiar rhythm of rock painting as a family—Zoe, Ella, and Jamin know how to join in. They tell their own stories of remembrance and listen to ours.
Steve and I lifted each of them up with specific promises painted on their stones:
Lifted, belonging, and focus were all placed in the medley of rocks that tell the stories of God’s faithfulness over 22 years of Thanks-giving together. A few stray rocks have gotten in the mix. No one is sure who painted them, or when.
As for prosper—that sits on a smaller shelf of rocks painted by Zoe over the last 10 years of her young life. The rhythm has become her own. She’s building her own altar of thanks and remembrance. Who knows where the rocks in her future will be lifted out of—gated driveways on the outskirts of Bogota? Southern California? Khulna, Bangladesh? Near a French castle or along an Italian riverbank?
To Be Discovered… in due time.
And to be part of a memorial… forever.
on my mind, Georgia
* some of the names of my precious friends are pseudonyms
That dreaded call came the day after Christmas in the middle of a family movie. The nurse dictated dates for blood tests and biopsies. It was clear as I fumbled for a pen while running out of the darkened theatre that she didn’t care which dates worked for my grad school class schedule, my teaching hours, or my family life.
Bottom line, I needed to rewrite my priority list—ASAP!
I was thankful for a short commute between hospital and university in the heart of Detroit. I naively thought I could change medications and not skip a beat in class. I didn’t account for the unexpected toxicities of Sprycel, my new miracle medication. It was super effective in treating cancer. But my fatigued body could barely make it through a day.
5 Steps of Energy Budgeting
I know what it’s like to live on a tight financial budget. I’ve been stretching dollars for decades. Taking Sprycel syphoned off a significant portion of my energy each day. It was clear that I drastically needed to rebalance my energy budget to account for success within my new limitations of fatigue.
1. Set Goals
Set clear, attainable goals. Identify the most important places to spend limited resources of energy. For me it was: Finish grad school. Aspire to excellence—as a mom, wife and student. As I pushed forward with my Master’s degree, I became a goal-setting master.
If I aspired to excellence as a mom, wife, and graduate student, I couldn’t also be an excellent teacher. I quit my teaching job, and we creatively rebalanced an even tighter financial budget.
3. Eliminate Excess
Identify and get rid of unnecessary energy drains. It’s like knowing you’re going to shipwreck if you don’t throw stuff overboard. Learn to say “NO” to superfluous obligations and to excess noise in your head.
Nursing a grudge or second-guessing good decisions were luxuries I couldn’t afford. Instead, I learned the energy-rejuvenating power of clear thinking cultivated by a rhythm of rest, walks, and intimate times in prayer.
4. Show Up Wholeheartedly
Once goals are set, priorities are clear, and junk has been eliminated, be present in your priorities. Embrace them fully and generously.
It was costly to be a mother of three and a non-traditional, cancer fighting grad student. I wasn’t going to miss any of those prioritized moments. I studied hard. I also learned to set studies aside and wholeheartedly cherish puppy movies with my feverish 4th grader as the privileged place of being a mom.
5. Celebrate Success
Find joy in the things that contribute to success. Setbacks and shortcomings are ingredients for grit when it comes to celebrating achievement.
I regularly thanked my amazing professors. When my worn out body ached, I thanked God for my cozy bed as I crawled into it. I cried tears of gratefulness as my husband picked up my slack at home.
When I finally finished graduate school, debt free, after 5 ½ years, celebrations of success were the sweetest.
I learned to thank God for my miracle medication.
It keeps my body cancer-free. It has afforded me peace of mind, power in weakness, freedom in limitations, and grace in weariness. I have learned to live more lightly and freely as I regularly surrender all my priorities to my highest priority of all—loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength.
Georgia Coats is a Language & Culture Learning Coach, freelance writer, educator, wife, and mother of three who is passionate about healthy mind-body-spirit living. Chronic Hope is Georgia’s collection of stories, lessons, and life adventures of living alongside chronic leukemia, cancer of the white blood cells, for two decades. She often shares what’s on her mind at: www.onmymindbygeorgia.wordpress.com
On My Mind 