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Anna Marie Denham 1922-2017

My maternal grandmother died late Friday afternoon peacefully, it appears, after lying down to nap. We called her Momo. This was her moniker of choice as she felt she was too young to be called 'grandma' when grandchildren started coming along. She was not old enough to be a grandmother. (She was roughly my age now when I was born so I can relate to that sentiment.)

I was very blessed to spend the first few years of my life with her and Dado, as my parents lived in the same city. Some of my earliest memories are at their home in their kitchen. Throughout childhood I can remember her being a night owl. Perhaps that's where I get it from. Dado would go to bed and I would crawl in with him, just touching his side, eventually falling asleep listening to him snore while she busied around the house.

That is one of my best memories and when I recall it, I am filled with a sense of warmth, security, and wellbeing. It's important to remember things like that in life. It give us the strength to move on when faced with difficulties unimaginable.

Anna Denham was saintly. I'm not sure I ever heard her speak a negative word about anyone--even when on one occasion she talked about a parishioner in Louisiana who was very ugly to her and my grandfather. She stated the facts about the situation but never spoke against him.

She was slow to speak, and quick to smile. She served willingly and put others first. That's how her faith compelled her to live. And she indeed lived according to her faith.

She would tell me more than once how she came to this faith as a young person through a evangelist that came to her church near Portland, Oregon. This particular female evangelist had been trained through the famed (and somewhat controversial) evangelist and preacher, Aimee Semple McPherson. She talked about going to the altar and having a profound spiritual experience that changed and shaped her life for years to come.

I believe this experience planted seeds in her that a woman can make an impact as a leader, even in the a church world dominated by men in leadership. In my opinion, she was clearly ahead of her times in this regard. Alongside my grandfather many years, she led by example and when necessary, used words for emphasis.

Once I was with my cousins around her kitchen table. I did something naughty (hard to believe I know). She reprimanded me with a surprised tone, "Jonathan Benz". I was devastated. The thought of letting her down was more than I could bear. That was the first and last time that happened.

My grandmother told the Knoxville News Sentinel in 2011 that the West Coast was a "very progressive" place to live. She had wanted to go to college in California but instead met Ed Denham in Kentucky saying, "My education was marrying a minister." Anyone raised in a minister's home can attest to the veracity of that statement.

I think she carried this progressive spirit throughout her life, even when she lived and ministered in places that would be considered "less than". She showed us that people were more important than policies, relationships more important than rules, spirit more important than letter of the law. 

She embodied this spirit of service whether hosting children's radio Bible hours in the 1950s, bringing hope to the poor in Appalachia, ministering to grieving families who lost soldiers in WWII and Vietnam, or ministering to the aged in nursing homes. She once told me that she hoped she would never finish out life with the elderly in a nursing home. "They act so old" and then added laughing, "I'm older than most of them already." She valued an energetic life and in recent months the only lament I overheard was that she couldn't move more quickly and be more active in her day-to-day life.

Over the Holidays, I was in Florida for Christmas. She was making breakfast one morning and asked if I wanted bacon for breakfast. I obliged, in spite of her ever-weakening physical capacity, because I knew that this was a small gesture of love that would in turn bring her great joy. It reminded me of the many times in her kitchen she served me and other family and friends. I believe it's the simple, mundane times that shape us the most profoundly and that we end up longing for most.

I will miss her chocolate chip cake and the late night phone calls. I will miss her red hair (never colored or died, of course).  I will miss her spirit, smile, acceptance, embrace, and always reliable kiss on the cheek.

I will miss her dearly. I already do.

Who Tells My Story

I saw Hamilton: An American Musical last night. 

There's a fantastic song called: "Who lives, Who dies, Who tells your story".

It spoke to me as I've been contemplating personal story-telling the last few weeks. It's something I believe in, and I think my best and most meaningful writing comes from this place of vulnerability.

Yet, I struggle with the vulnerability of story-telling. What if people judge? What if they don't like it? What if what I have to say bothers those close to me? What if I open myself up to too much criticism? What if I say too much?

These are the inherent risks of story-telling. They are also the risks that make for great writing, personal transformation, as well as an ability to touch deeply the heart of others.

I also contemplate what kind of mark I am making on my world. Especially on this, my birthday, I'm grateful for the people who've reached out to me with kind words and expressions of gratitude for the role I've played in their lives. That means so much to me. It reminds me to keep being my authentic self and to live out loud because people need what I have to say and give.

I believe one of the best ways I can make a mark is through the vulnerability of telling my story. Knowing that I control the narrative helps an awful lot.

I haven't always felt like I controlled the narrative--especially when I worked directly in the religious world. There were people who liked to gossip, malign, and revel in the humanity of others--even my own. (I've often said some of the meanest people I met were those who thought they spoke for God.) I sometimes suffered due to the words said about me and my family. But now I believe much of that suffering was perhaps not-so-necessary.

You see, the words that others say about us really don't mean a lot in the end. Words of criticism come and go, but they only last if we give them power. The words of people who didn't like what I represented then or now don't really matter in the end because I control the narrative with my actions and staying power. (And God knows I got staying power!)

This is the good news: we have the final word by how we live our lives as well as by the community we choose to surround ourselves with. On this birthday I'm grateful even for the criticisms of years past because it has spurred me on to stand in my truth with less fear of what others think.

Those criticisms and indictments against me have caused me to surround myself with people who love and accept me, no matter what stage of my journey I'm on. Those are the ones who truly matter.

There's a Tibetan saying that goes: Wherever you have friends that's your country, and wherever you receive love, that's your home. I'm grateful for the diverse community that surrounds me with friendship and love. Those are the ones I call my spiritual country and home.

Now the truth of the matter is that not everyone is your particular country or home. Not everyone is in the game with you. The armchair quarterbacks who sit on the sidelines lecturing you how to play ultimately don't matter. They aren't in your game so don't give their words credence. Listen to those who are laboring with you, struggling with you, and journeying with you through life's ups and downs.

But having said that, armchair quarterbacks do give me two kinds of gifts. First, they remind me to only listen to those who are fully in the game with me. Their other gift to me is that they give me courage to find my voice.

Part of finding my voice means decrying oppression and discrimination in its many forms and manifestations: racism, misogyny, islamophobia, anti-semitism, homophobia, transphobia, ethnocentrism, nationalism, even false piety and platitudes that condescend others. Finding my voice is speaking and acting on behalf of those who do not have a voice. 

In fact, I believe we have a great moral responsibility to publicly renounce the words of those who preach oppression and discrimination against other groups of people. Kindness, compassion, and empathy compel us to do so. The teachings of peace and non-violence as exampled through Jesus, Ghandi, Dr. King, Rosa Parks, Nelson Mandela, Archbishop Tutu, the Dalai Lama, Malala Yousafzai, and so many others past and present compel us to do so.

Moreover, our conscience compels us.

So I will continue to live courageously with authenticity and vulnerability. I will also speak out and tell my story. Because in the end, that's how we make a difference.

Some Post-Election Thoughts on Gratitude

I recently was invited to share some thoughts on "gratitude during difficult times" at Marble Collegiate Church in NYC. Marble has a rich history in the USA, founded in 1628 as well as the congregation of the great preacher and motivational speaker Norman Vincent Peale. 

Here is some of what I shared. It is helping me post-election as I prepare for Thanksgiving and the Holiday Season. (Please forgive the writing style as this was delivered via spoken word.)

I've been more conscientious recently about living from a place of gratitude. Mostly because this year I transitioned career paths and re-located back to NYC from Fort Lauderdale after being away for 7 years. It's been a big, exciting, thrilling, life change but it hasn't been without struggles along the way. 

Now one would think in my line of work that gratitude would just come naturally to me. I've worked in the religious world plus secular, clinical settings and people for a long while have looked to me for inspiration whether through writing, blogging, or speaking. I've even taught the spiritual practice of gratitude to patients in a residential healthcare setting.

But I've got news: for the most part, gratitude doesn't come naturally to me. I find it more often than not a choice.

I must choose to be grateful. I must choose to celebrate life. I must choose to live life intentionally and not be dictated by the winds of emotion. I'm wired emotionally and I sometimes find myself swept away when circumstances aren't lining up perfectly to my liking.

Emotions are a funny thing. I find they usually are not right or wrong--in a moral sense, that is. They are more markers or indicators of what may or may not be happening on a deeper level within me.

Sometimes emotions might be hormonally-induced and no indicator of outward circumstances at all.

Sometimes I wonder if they are influenced by the alignment of the planets spinning around us, exerting invisible, forceful pressure on us that's way out of our finite control.

I mean, did you see that Supermoon the other night?  Think about it: if the moon controls the tides of the oceans, who's to say that the planets can't also impact us internally? Is there a planet-soul connection to our existence? Boy, that would give me a good scapegoat when I'm in a particularly foul mood. You know, blame it on the moon!

Mostly though, I think emotions may be full-on indicators telling us to change our environment or challenging us to change ourselves. That, my friends, is more easily said than done.

That's why I think choosing to be grateful is so important. A positive affirmation or statement of thanks can help to shift dodgy emotions--especially when we enter the Holiday season and discover that our lives don't necessarily line up with the idyllic Christmas special on the Hallmark Channel.

I have a former colleague who lives this way. She's survived cancer, addiction, and the death of her son. And she would still smile at me when I see her and say, "It's a beautiful day, I'm alive!."

She reminds me that any day I'm alive is a beautiful day. And guess what? Any day that you are alive is a tremendously beautiful one too. That realization doesn't mean I'm going to feel great all the time. But it does mean that when I experience difficulty I can choose hope over despair, gratitude over grumbling, thankfulness over complaints. I've learned my complaints don't change my circumstances, they merely bring me down. And I prefer being up over being down. That's one of the reasons I've enjoyed Marble Church the last several months. When I'm down, the music, worship, and motivational preaching bring me up!

So I remind myself to be grateful. I remind myself to be thankful. Gratitude is the attitude that changes me internally so that I can navigate what's going around me externally. I choose gratitude today.

After all, it's a beautiful day, I'm alive!

And guess what? It's a beautiful day, and you are alive!

My Election Season Survival Tips

I've been following this wild and woolly campaign season fairly closely. I find myself getting completely caught up in it: feeling at times concerned, anxious, shocked, disgusted, frustrated, or any combination of the aforementioned.

 A few weeks ago I made some changes, realizing that this election isn't worth sacrificing my psycho-emotional well-being.

So with a little less than four weeks to go, here are my tips for surviving this election season:

1. Turn it off. I find myself watching various news outlets whenever I'm near the tv. I enjoy hearing the different political spins on the same story. But sometimes it's too much, and it's time to turn it off. Just because there's a television in the room doesn't mean it has to be on.
2. Put it down. My smart phone not only shows me political rants of Facebook friends, it also gives me headlines all throughout the day. I can get stuck in iPhone la-la land. When that happens, I put the phone down. I can always review my social media feeds at a later time.
3. Watch what you post as well as who sees it. While I've been fairly vocal to friends and family in person, I've been purposely silent on social media because I didn't want to engage in the contentious fray. There's tremendous diversity among my social media friends, and I haven't felt like debating acquaintances or people I rarely see (or have never met) face-to-face. I finally posted something political this last week and found myself judged and admonished by both conservatives and liberals alike. (Ain't nobody got time for that, especially me.)
4. Unfriend, unfollow. For me, I only receive rebukes from people who walk with me closely on my journey. These are the people who will call me out and then help me walk out positive change. If someone publicly and aggressively calls me out--and is not willing to follow up in private and in a non-snarky manner--I'm not interested in their feedback. I tell them as much and if they don't receive it, I put them on a limited viewing list--or better yet I unfollow. If they aren't open to collegial discussion, I unfriend. I don't need contentious people in my life from either side of the political aisle.
5. Watch what you say. I assume that most people think just like me; after all I'm brilliant and always right (sarcasm intended!). But it's also probably a little arrogant to think that people see things from my perspective. So unless I'm really sure I know the people I'm socializing with, I'm very careful what I say, and how I say it. I've found it's just not worth it. The climate is too explosive right now. Pausing and taking the perspective of my listeners helps me cultivate empathy. And if there's anything I think we need right now in America, it's more empathy.

Now having said all of this, I love a good debate. I really enjoy political discourse. It's been hard for me at times because I want to go on rants and raves. But I've found other people's rants and raves are not really changing my mind (nor are they producing much good within me). While rants might help me blow off emotional steam, I don't think they are really going to help change anyone's mind either. In fact, my emotional steam may even turn people off who agree with me.

At the end of the day, most people's minds are already made up. As much as I'd like, I probably won't change them.

So I'm doing my best to follow the Golden Rule this election season:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

For me that includes how I share, the timing, the tone, the content, and my intentions behind it. I think if we all do that a little bit more, we might get a long just a little better. 

 

For further ideas on this subject, read Bridging the Divide.

 

 

I'm Just Getting Started

I went into 2016 knowing intuitively the New Year would produce some big change in my life. I'm not sure how I knew, but I knew.

I also anticipated that it would be something good. I knew change had to come because I felt myself increasingly frustrated professionally which then impacted me personally. I mean I had had a good life in the sun, a decent paycheck, and beautiful studio loft in Fort Lauderdale. But I was ready for a new challenge.

I became more and more restless--even cantankerous--as the year moved on. The addictions industry I worked in was becoming very troubling: corporate investors, insurance companies, and patient brokers were making it harder and harder on those doing quality work. At times, I had to engage unprofessional and unethical people. So even more restlessness ensued. Something had to give.

Doors would crack open and then suddenly slam with a thud. Spring was particularly difficult. At one point I became very despondent and disillusioned. The inner critic in my head had a field day.  It was easy to be very hard on myself.

My dad wisely commented that a closed door is not always bad, it's just a re-direction. 

Luckily, those closed doors provided re-direction back to NYC. In many ways, returning here has been the restoration of a dream that I think I may have forgotten. 

So in recent weeks I'm filled with gratitude anew. I'm also reflecting on what kind of legacy I want to live at this phase of my life. It's definitely a new chapter, and I want to write it right.

Here are some personal questions I've been reflecting on:

• What can I do to give back to society, to make a difference, to bring about positive change, and to work for justice?
• What can I contribute to the world that comes out of my own experience? 
• Where can I plant seeds in a garden, which I may cultivate, but never harvest? 
• What am I going to do with the time I have left?

I'm grateful for the last seven years in South Florida. I'm certainly not slowing down. In fact, I'm just getting started.

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Yes to Uncertainty, Yes to Adventure

On the unofficial start of summer, I'm contemplating change, risk-taking, and uncertainty. 

I'm generally pretty comfortable with change. I embrace it. I roll with it the best I can.

That strategy is helpful because in behavioral healthcare where I work there is constant change. It's not the most stable of industries. Private investors, corporate mergers and acquisitions, and changing healthcare laws and insurance policies require great flexibility.

I find too that sometimes life thrusts change upon you without checking in with you first. The rules change. What you anticipated happening, doesn't.

You can fight the current of change. Or you can ride the wave and let it take you where it may. I can try to control the process or instead trust the process. I find the latter easier but it requires a lot of letting go, risk-taking, and being okay with uncertainty.

My dad said yesterday that people of faith are okay with uncertainty. I try to anticipate unexpected things so as to navigate them better.

But it doesn't always work that way. In times of uncertainty I find the foundation of faith in my life very helpful. I go back to my core values and do the next right thing.

This doesn't mean I don't feel fear or anxiety. Courageous people feel the fear and do it anyway.

Courageous people do the right next thing in the face of the uncertainties. They take the risk. They jump out of the boat, and find they indeed can walk on water. And if they do go under, they learn to float and flow in the current because there's no shame in sinking. It's what makes us human. We go under and rise back up.

The American write and mythologist Joseph Campbell wrote, "The big question is whether you are going to say yes to your adventure...We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."

This summer I'm saying 'yes' to the life that awaits me. I'm saying 'yes' to change, risk-taking, and uncertainty. 

I believe the adventure is well worth it.

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Embracing Winds of Change

For the last few months, I've been contemplating what change looks like in my life. I came across these quotes this morning in my readings and thought them worth sharing.

From Melody Beattie, The Language of Letting Go, April 19:

Is it possible we're being prepared for a new "normal"? Change will sweep through our life, as needed, to take us where we're going. We can trust that our Higher Power has a plan in mind, even when we don't know where the changes are leading. We can trust that the change taking place is good. The winds will take us where we need to go.

I can trust that where I end up will be much better than where I was previous. I can trust that there is more good in life than there is bad and that that Goodness is guiding and leading me as I surrender, trust, and accept.

And from Fr. Richard Rohr's Meditation, April 19:

The spiritual experience is about trusting that when you stop holding yourself, Inherent Goodness will still uphold you. Many of us call that God, but you don't have to. It is the trusting that is important. When you fall into such Primal Love, you realize that everything is foundationally okay. Unfortunately, this is often absent in our secular world today. 

I sometimes feel like I must hold everything together and fully understand everything in order to navigate it. I think that's unneeded pressure. It's in the "not knowing" that we can gain a higher understanding. I think that's the design of Life. When I stop resisting, I receive what I need. When I stop striving, I arrive more easily at the best destination.

So for today, I choose to not resist. I choose to raise my sails and let the winds carry me in the direction I need to be. I trust that, indeed, all is well. 

Clarity

My friend Sarah texted me a "word for the day" this morning:

Clarity.

It was well-timed because I've been seeking for greater clarity recently. Clarity of vision. Clarity in purpose. Clarity in relationships. Clarity at work. 

For me, I need clarity because it helps me align with what I believe is my mission in life.

Sometimes it's hard to see clearly on life's journey. I've found returning to spiritual practices helps. I've been reading more, meditating more, and reflecting more. 

I've also been mindful to not get caught up in my head too much. I've said it before: the worst place I can be is to be caught up in my own thoughts.

Exercise helps me with that. So does reaching out to friends and loved ones for support.

I'm grateful for friends like Sarah. I'm also grateful that while sometimes we "see through a glass dimly", when we ask for clarity it will come. Maybe not in the timing that I'd like. But certainly in the best way possible.

I trust that to be so.

New Season, New Position at Lifeskills South Florida

I've been pretty transparent on social media the last couple weeks talking about life changes but haven't updated this blog.

Last month I resigned my position at The Recovery Place in Fort Lauderdale where I developed and directed a highly successful faith-based treatment program called Three Strands. It was a difficult decision but I noticed significant changes after new leadership took over Elements Behavioral Health, the parent company.

My decision proved to be a wise and strategic one because the following week after my resignation, Elements announced they would be closing the entire operations of The Recovery Place on December 4. It was a very sad and difficult experience watching a treatment center dwindle down to very few clients and witness a program I worked very hard to develop be brought to nothing. However, I am grateful for the two years I worked for Elements and the opportunities the company afforded me while there.

On October 19 I started as Director of Program Development and Outreach at Lifeskills South Florida in Deerfield Beach, FL. Lifeskills specializes in treating complex psychiatric and/or substance use disorders. Lifeskills is unique in that it is licensed both for psychiatric conditions as well as substance abuse. Many treatment centers do not hold licenses for the treatment of both.  I will also be assisting our Intensive Outpatient Program in Delray Beach.

I am excited about this new part of my journey. If you know someone who is suffering from a mental health or substance abuse disorder, don't hesitate to contact me. I'll be happy to help, and if we can't help them at Lifeskills, will help you find the place best suited for them.

 

And Grace Appears

The following post is part of a talk I am giving on Friday, May 29, 2015 at the South Florida Spiritual Care Network lunch, an association of clinicians, counselors, clergy, law enforcement, elected officials, and other helping professionals.

Trauma is anything less than nurturing.

--Commonly heard definition for trauma in the clinical counseling community

If this definition is right, then we all have been traumatized on some level, and we all have some healing work to do. I often tell my clients when complaining about their lot in life, "Welcome to Planet Earth." While it may sound cheeky, it does help them to wake up to the idea that life on this planet does not exempt us from problems. In fact, being born on this planet ensures it. Mother Nature can be hostile. So can our own families and loved ones. So can our friends and enemies. So can we ourselves.

How do we bounce back from less-than-nurturing experiences?

Often, those of us in the healing professions are the last to personally apply our own work. We somehow delude ourselves into thinking that as we help others heal, we too are being healed. 

And while it's a spiritual truth that in giving, we receive (the Prayer of St. Francis), this truth can't be activated in our lives until we practice another truth: we can only impart that which we have already received.

In short, we have to have it before we can give it to another.

But this begs to ask the question: where do helpers go for help? Where do we receive the strength, knowledge, healing, insight, and awareness to light the paths of those who come to us seeking to come out of their own personal darkness? How do we walk in the light and bring others into it as well?

I've found head knowledge is not enough. Intellectually knowing a healing technique or principle is very different than experiencing it. All of the education in the world might produce a lot of useful information but still in the end be very insufficient to transform the heart.

I suppose it's that aspiration for personal transformation that drives us forward.  I know it does me. I find great fulfillment in seeing others transform their lives.

You see, those who work with me--especially those who know me well--understand that most everything I do in life, I do with intensity.

I work hard.

I play hard.

I relate hard.

I strive hard.

I sleep hard.

I weep hard.

I laugh hard.

I give with everything in my being. Rarely do I hold back.

I do so because this creates for a more nuanced and meaningful existence--at least for me.

I do so because I'm convinced that if I'm giving my all then I've done my best and hopefully made a difference in my world.

This last weekend I was walking home from a restaurant and I had an Aha! moment. 

It went something like this: I can do anything I want to do. I don't have to do everything I want.

Sometimes it's as if for me the law of scarcity takes over. I have to make up for lost time. I have to do and experience everything because there might not be another chance. We aren't promised a tomorrow. All we have is today. So carpe diem, baby!

But my Aha! moment woke me up again to the idea that I can choose to not do the things I really like to do. I can rest in the place of being. In fact, just being is a phenomenal choice to connect me to myself and those around me. In that moment of my Aha! moment, scarcity vanished, and grace appeared.

I don't know how it appeared, but it did. This feeling of wellbeing came over me. I slowed down my harried and hurried pace. I noticed more the warmth of the sun on my face. I was more aware of the people passing me on the sidewalk. I felt more centered, more grounded, more connected, more calm, more alive.  As my dad sometimes says, it was like I was being saved all over again. Saved from the bondage of self. Saved to live again. Renewed, resurrected, reborn, born again, all at once. In a moment, in an instant, in the twinkling of an eye, grace appeared.

Now how does one define grace? I was rhetorically asking my friend Richard this, just this morning. He was on his way to take care of something that we--his wife, Lisa, other close friends, and I--had been praying and hoping for, for a while. 

I suddenly blurted, "I'm not sure we can define grace, we can only experience it."

Grace is something to be experienced.

We experience grace when we journey with others.

We experience grace when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, and we aren't quite as afraid as we used to be.  

We experience grace when we embrace the good, the bad, and the ugly in our lives and come to understand that everything belongs.

We experience grace when we realize that we are finite and infinitely powerful all at the same time.

We experience grace when we come to our wit's end and discover that the way out was there all along.

We experience grace when we survive hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, and natural disasters--both literal and metaphorical--and come out on the other side grateful for the deeper life lessons we have learned.

We experience grace in the dark night of the soul, when the angry angst of human isolation, abandonment, and shame seek to snuff out our inner light, and we then suddenly realize that when forsaken and alone, we find ourselves in the best company ever.

We experience grace when the inner demons rant and rave and rage and have less power over us than they did before.

We experience grace when we face the inevitable mortality of those close to us and that of ourselves.

We experience grace when we risk vulnerability and share our stories with others and they with us. 

We experience grace when we think our story is over and discover it's only just begun.

Grace is a uniquely human experience. Grace is all around. Grace is within you, within me, within all of us. Grace is already there.  Grace comes when we ask. Grace even comes when we don't ask.

That's the beauty of grace.

I work hard, and grace appears.

I play hard, and grace appears.

I relate hard, and grace appears.

I strive hard, and grace appears.

I sleep hard, and grace appears.

I weep hard, and grace appears.

I laugh hard, and grace appears.

I give with everything in my being, and grace appears.

I live life fully, and grace appears.

I slow down and breathe, and grace appears.

I do nothing, and yes, grace appears.

So I return to my original questions:

How do we bounce back from less-than-nurturing experiences? Where do helpers go for help? Where do we receive the strength, knowledge, healing, insight, and awareness to light the paths of those who come to us seeking to come out of their own personal darkness? How do we walk in the light and bring others into it as well? 

I don't have easy answers to these questions but I do think grace has a lot to do with it. I today choose to surround myself with gracious people. I choose gracious, compassionate and kinds thoughts toward myself and others. I endeavor to live a more gracious way of life.

I offer others the strength and favor I have received which I've done nothing to garner, earn, or gain.

I give freely even as I have received.

For it's in grace I live, move, and have my being.

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