The Wind Blows Where It Wishes

/ erikamorck / 2 Comments

A Memorial Sermon for my uncle, Chuck Morck

based on John 3:1-16

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”   Most of us know this beloved verse in the Gospel of John by heart but many may not be familiar with the full context of this Gospel passage. The full passage with the back and forth between Nicodemus and Jesus reminded me of conversations with Chuck – not all of them mind you – but definitely the ones that stick with me. Especially the words…

“The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit.” (John 3:8)

The wind blows where it wishes… Sounds just like something Chuck would say while philosophizing. Furthermore, Nicodemus reminds me of Uncle Chuck. You see, Nicodemus was a Pharisee, a ruler of the Jews. Not just a ruler – but a highly esteemed ruler of a group who were often at the brunt of Jesus’ most critical denunciations for their hypocrisy.  And yet, Nicodemus was a different sort. Nicodemus would take a stance opposite those prosecuting Jesus later in the Gospel. Like the wind, blowing where it wishes, Nicodemus took a contrary view believing that Jesus was the Messiah, sent from God. He was a biblical contrarian of the purest sort. 

Chuck fancied himself a contrarian. It was one of his favorite ways of describing himself.  He made his “riches” buying stocks that were falling when most investors were selling. Bad news in the market was “good news” for Chuck. He enjoyed disagreeing with people and expressing opinions that were – different. He delighted in a good debate. For the most part – the only time I recall Chuck chuckling was when he went against the grain in a conversation. He had a knack for telling it like it is from the “fact” that he hated my mom’s cooked carrots to the other “fact” that I needed to put on some weight. Sometimes this knack rubbed people wrong and may or may not have contributed to his mostly solitary life. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have a social life. I had the good fortune of working with a former sales colleague and very good friend of Chuck – who filled me in on his exploits as a much-desired catch in their social circle.  Sure, he was an odd duck – but a good man, he told me; disagreeable by definition, cantankerous for sure – but a truly good man. 

Like the wind that blows where it wishes, Chuck lived his life his own way. Perhaps he had to – being the youngest of four brothers.  The wind took him in different directions and supplied him with stories for a lifetime. He would become a king of the road and a master of investing – and an expert on all matters of frugality and simplicity. He truly was a self-made opinionated solitary man. 

He also loved to play tennis – embodying the back and forth of a good debate on the tennis court. He was a deep thinker and would surprise you out of the blue with remarkably intelligent insight on all sorts of matters: economics, horse racing, philosophy, politics, religion and even romance. He was a wealth of career advice and was thrilled when I began working for a financial advisor! Along with politics and market news, we would have deep conversations about religion – often leaving me frustrated in my earnest faith with his conviction that “they” – meaning pew-sitters – were all a bunch of hypocrites.” And yet – he never shut me down. Much like the Pharisees of Jesus day – he peppered me with questions I couldn’t find words to answer – and so we left them hanging for both of us to ponder.

In his last days, I longed for a final conversation – but that just wasn’t possible. I wrestled with the thoughts that Chuck was not “right with God” at least by my definition. I prayed that he knew that this life wasn’t it – that so much more awaited him. And so, I admit to crying tears of joy and yes relief, when his hospice Chaplain Dana relayed to me one of their last conversations. She had inquired as to his spiritual state, where he was in terms of his journey and if he believed in God. Chuck thought a moment, and then with great confidence said “I am a Christian.” and then they prayed together. 

Jesus said, “Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it” (Matthew 7:13-14). Most people take the road that is well-traveled and that road, Jesus said, leads to destruction. It leads away from meaningful and eternal life. Few people take the road that is less traveled, the road that Jesus said, leads to meaningful and eternal life. The Christian way is by its very nature contrarian. 

Baptized by the Spirit at birth, Chuck took the path less traveled.  I can’t help but think now, that those sometimes-frustrating faith debates with Chuck were divinely inspired. Chuck made me think differently about the church and my faith – he made me question, wonder about, and hold less firmly to ideas that were of the church but as I read the Bible with clearer eyes – not of God. 

In His sermon on the mount, better known as Beatitudes, Jesus said that his followers are blessed when they are poor, when they are hungry, when they weep, and when they are reviled and persecuted because in God’s future they will inherit the kingdom, they will be filled, they will laugh, and their reward will be great in heaven. Jesus also said that those who were rich and full and lived to be well-spoken of did not have much to look forward to in the future. In other words – all those hypocritical pew-sitters Chuck waved his hand at may have some re-thinking to do. The way of Jesus is very much a contrarian way to live.

Much of Chuck’s outlook on life was contrary to my way of thinking – and yet as I think on much of what he said over and over again – never mind his temperament when saying it – it reflects the way Jesus would have us live. That Chuck chose to live alone rather than in community should not negate the depth of insight he had on the ways of the world. 

“The wind blows where it wishes…

It’s easy when you are different, solitary, independent, contrary – to get blown in the wind – to feel unknown or cast away by the world, by others, or lost to oneself. I imagine there were times like that for Chuck. I imagine there are times when you feel that way too. But no matter how buffeted by the wind, no matter how far we drift, no matter how alone we may walk – there is One in this life and world to whom we are never lost, from whom we can never become unmoored or cast away. We are never left behind or cast away by Christ.

In Christ everyone, every single person, is loved, called by name, and claimed as a beloved child. Jesus is the one for whom our differences make no difference. “I will never drive away anyone who comes to me,” Jesus says. Not anyone, not Chuck, not you, not me. There is not enough difference in the world to keep us apart from the love of Christ.

“(N)either death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:37-39)

Chuck’s contrarian ways in this life and world and his firm conviction of faith in death, show us that no matter how different we are, how much we question or profess to be ambivalent to, or refuse to be a pew-sitter for – nothing can separate us from the love of God. He is the witness that in Christ our differences make no difference and that we are never truly or finally lost. The promises of today’s gospel (John 3:1-16) have been fulfilled in and through Chuck’s life, and they are being fulfilled in your life and mine. All shall be well. 

God wastes nothing of God’s creation. I no longer wonder about the meaning of the times I spent with Uncle Chuck, the conversations we had and the questions he gave me about life. I no longer wonder what his life might have taught me about mine. I am willing to bet he taught you something about yourself and your life as well. Maybe he encouraged you to enlarge your life, gave you something to think about that hadn’t crossed your mind before. Maybe he encouraged you in your own independence. Maybe he was generous to you in a way you weren’t expecting.  Maybe he gave you the opportunity to care about and help him – giving you the gift of giving sacrificial love. Maybe there was a word, an eye twinkle, a shared moment that you will forever cherish that connected with your heart and left you feeling not so different after all.

None of that ends simply because he is not sitting here with us in his lazy-boy. Those things are just as real and present today as they were when they happened – maybe even more so. Life has changed, not ended. So, I will listen to his life – for what he might still have to say to me. Maybe you will as well.

Yes, the wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit – So it is with Chuck.   For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.

 Let it be so. – Amen. 

Finishing Well

/ erikamorck / 2 Comments

The days are getting longer! Have you noticed this with as much delight as I have? Dare I say another long dark winter is almost behind us? Nah, I know better than to tempt Mother Nature’s whimsy like that!! But I must admit, as I stood in quiet awe watching the sunset the other evening at almost 6 pm, this long dark winter seemed like just a blink. Oh, I know we still have weeks if not months of winter ahead – at least in my northwest neck of the woods – but the swiftness of time passing caught me up short.

As I write this, I am in the midst of planning the memorial service for my uncle; my father’s youngest, and the last of the four Morck brothers. He was preceded in death by his parents, two half-brothers, and his brother – my dad. He had a long, very unique – life; and while I mourn his passing, I am glad he is relieved of the burdens of this world. He was a frugal bachelor and didn’t leave much behind – except for our memories and his special brand of wisdom.

The four Morck brothers. My dad is on the far left. My recently passed uncle – 2nd from right.

With his death, I have this heavy sense of ending. He was the last of a special generation within our family – a direct connection to the grandparents I never knew and all the history and lore of a Norwegian Danish family making a life on the cold high plains of eastern Montana.   With that generation of our life as a family behind us, all my brother and I have left is the fabric of our very beings. Since neither of us have children, it is an odd feeling – being the last remnants of a family. There is a loneliness that creeps into the soul and a weightiness in the realization that “this is it” – it all ends with us – this chapter in the “epic” tale of the Morck family.

When someone close to us dies, our own death always feels more imminent. We tend to examine our own lives a bit more meticulously.  If I joined Mom, Dad, and my uncle today, would I be satisfied with how my book of life ended, with how I ran and finished the race?

That evening a few days ago, as I stood in the stillness and watched the sky darken in the west and lose its rose-gold hues, it dawned on me how much life I have lived in the 7 years since I felt my mother’s embrace, and 6 years since I heard my father say my name – one last time. At times it is all a blur as I reckon with changes to my life I never before could have fathomed facing on my own and yet somehow, I did.

And as I mark the end of my uncle’s life, seeing and recounting his journey in retrospect – it is hard to fathom that his race is over. Though some days seemed like an unending struggle and time passed excruciatingly slow, how did we get to his finish line so fast?  Where did all the time go? 

The fastest race we will ever run is the race of life. Our time is fleeting, the most important facets of life become mere flickers of memory as days become weeks, weeks become months, months become years. Though we may say we are winning at life – the race itself has only one ending – one we don’t want to reach – and yet we keep running it – chasing after some prize just beyond our reach.

To run a race and finish well you have to be intentional with your training and intentional with your run during the race. You must be cognizant of those around you and any obstacles you might encounter. You must stay in touch with how your body is performing the tasks you are asking it to and keep your focus not just on the finish line but on every step you take – lest you trip on a rock or stumble on a pothole. Those of you reading this who also happen to be runners know how easy it is to get lost in your head once the lead in your legs gives way to the runner’s high-inducing repetitive strides.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is mt-marathon-2.jpg

The race of life is no different. It must be lived with intention if you want to finish well. But in a world of constant motion and monotony – it too is easy to get lost in the rush of it all – to give in to just doing, doing, doing for the sake of doing.  Until we are caught mid-doing and forced to reckon with reality, reckon with time, and reckon with mortality. Reckon with our reason for being.

And what is that, really – our reason for being? If we are not careful, that question alone can send us down a rabbit hole. It can be unsettling when your reason resume is less succinct or weighty than you imagined it would be; when you realize that life has taken you “off-course” or at least off the course of your intentions.

Too often, I have let others define my reason for being – or worse – what I think others want my reason for being to be. Too often, my daily intentions simply become reactions to what is happening around me in my rush to get somewhere. It is easy to settle into the complacent comfort of taking each day as it comes rather than shaping my being each day for what it could be.

It takes a concerted effort to define our lives – to live with intention. Because, to live intentionally requires us to do one thing. One thing that can seem abhorrent, even irrational, in our quest to finish well. Any guesses as to what that one thing is? Hurry up – time’s a wasting!!

The answer is nothing! Doing not a thing! And that is why it is so hard to live intentionally and with reason. The thought of doing nothing – of simply being still – goes against the laws of energy and drive and every notion of success – within us!

And yet, when I get lost in the woods, my first instinct is to run to safety as if in a race against time. But survivalists will tell me NO, that is the last thing I should do. Instead, I must stop, be still and take things in. This isn’t a race against time. It is time to connect to my surroundings and myself. In other words, stay put and “get a hold of myself.”

Stillness grants us breath amid the breathlessness of life. Stillness calls forth our inner voice so we can hear and follow it. Stillness invites us into a place of rest and reflection instead of rapidity and reaction. Stillness stirs us to contemplation which births our most worthy intentions.

Stillness invites connection to ourselves and to others. It helps us find our center point, and take stock of our life in the moment. 

I spent years trying to outrun stillness. For those of us used to running through the paces of life, racing through thoughts of things to do and things left undone, racing past feelings that we don’t want to feel, running from the commitments made that we struggle to keep and our relationships that need more of us than we have to give – stillness can be an uncomfortable, even scary state to find ourselves in.  But no matter how quick our cadence in the race of life, life always seems to catch us if not pass us by – sometimes taunting us at the end.

Ironically, it is those very things we are running through and from that hold the key to unlocking the answers we seek – our reason for being – the greatness we are capable of – the meaning of life – if only we would connect, reflect, listen, take stock, breathe and be still.  As Blaise Pascal put it, “all of humanity’s problems stem from our inability to sit quietly in a room.”

A life without stillness is a life rushing blindly towards its end.

As I contemplate the life of my uncle, and the lives of my parents – how they gave life to life and where they struggled to do so – it helps me see where I want my intentions to be. Appreciating and treasuring relationships, engaging with community, not just getting up each morning but showing up for life and for those in my life, doing meaningful work to the best of my ability, enjoying God’s creation and being the creative being God purposed me to be, and finally, honoring my life with time to be still and take it all in – taking all of God in.  

Doing so will help me center my thoughts and emotions in Christ as I am reminded of God’s transforming love for all of us. Through this time of stillness and looking up to God, how I view the world, myself, and the situations I find myself in will most assuredly be changed as I align my reason for being and what my intentions are to Him.

Time well spent. There’s no need to rush. I’ll get to the finish line soon enough. 

Go and find stillness – welcome it into your life and finish well.

Let your light so shine!

The Gift of Sadness

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“Were it possible for us to see further than our knowledge reaches, and yet a little way beyond the outworks of our divining, perhaps we would endure our sadnesses with greater confidence than our joys. For they are the moments when something new has entered into us, something unknown; our feelings grow mute in shy perplexity, everything in us withdraws, a stillness comes, and the new, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it and is silent.”

– Rainer Maria Rilke

I have certainly endured my share of sadness in the last 6 years – but – as Rilke so exquisitely writes – in those same moments – something new was taking form within me. Who I am now was watered by my tears. On my journey, I became strong. I have grown into life with a greater certainty of my God and who I am. And oh what joy this brings.

Let your light so shine!

Accepting God’s Blessings

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“Exercise is a CELEBRATION of what your body can do, not a PUNISHMENT for what you ate.”


It has been a life-long journey for me to arrive at this life-saving epiphany. And yes, I do mean life-saving. You CAN exercise yourself to death – I am living proof of that – by a sheer miracle and the grace of a God whose purpose for me had yet to be realized.

But even nearly dying couldn’t shake this mindset from me. It is a hard habit to break. It took 25 years after “death” came knocking the first time for me to truly embrace this concept.

As someone whose sense of self was, for the longest time, based on the approval of others, I never felt worthy enough or deserving enough – even at one point – for food. Proving myself through exercise – the one thing I knew I excelled at – became my measure. Miles ran, calories burned, sit-ups slammed, squats burned out – I counted everything – because in my eyes – I didn’t count.

Living like this is not living. Living like this is akin to dying to life – every single day. It left me with a broken body and an empty core.

I continue to see my hip replacement much like Jacob’s wrestling with God during his longest night. Jacob’s life was one of never-ending struggles, fears and anxiety that led him away from God. When he came to a point where he could struggle no-longer he met his greatest challenge yet – God’s blessing.

In all my “faithfulness” – I have struggled – endlessly – to be who God wants me to be – to earn the ultimate approval. But here’s the thing – we can never earn God’s approval – we can only accept it as a true gift.

And it is a true gift – what my body can do today – and who I am as a child of God. How much fuller life is when I celebrate who I am and what I have accomplished with Him than when I wrestle over who I am not and what I have failed to do without Him – always looking for approval from a world that most likely sees me very differently than I see myself.

Accepting God’s blessing is the hardest most freeing thing I have done. It has changed my life, how I live it, and how I share life with others.

Let your light so shine!

Plans, I Have a Few

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I think about now. I think about tomorrow. But I don’t give much thought to yesterday.

Yellowstone

Oh, if only that were true!!! Alas, there is something in my DNA that has predestined me to nostalgic tendencies. No matter how much I try to focus on the future or earnestly espouse the wonders of being “present to the present”- the past occupies an inordinate amount of space in my thoughts.

Perhaps it is because the past just proves to be so interesting – all the twists and turns life takes us on. In the moment, we miss out on some of the extraordinary happenings amid the ordinary, amid the chaos, amid the musts and shoulds of everyday life. It’s only upon reflection that the true meaning and essence of certain events comes to light.

It should be no wonder then that I am frequently surprised by life. If you had told me on New Year’s Eve 2021 what 2022 had in store for me, I would have guffawed at your naivete. I could never have fathomed that I would undergo major surgery in June, that I would have to learn to walk again and then proceed to hike over 200 miles in the months after, that one of my best friends would die, that my dog would be poisoned, and that I would cap the year with a spontaneous crazy adventure completely out of my norm! Nope, I did not see any of those things coming.  As I look back on 2022, I am in awe that I am still standing.

But even the most foresighted among us will find themselves surprised, even stunned by what the headlights suddenly reveal on the road before them.

Robert Burns wrote despondently about the vagaries of life in 1785, ruing the calamity brought upon a field mouse’s carefully constructed nest as an oblivious farmer plowed his winter-ravaged field. Little did the mouse know when she awoke that morning to go about the business of securing nourishment and warmth for the day that her home would be destroyed by a farmer’s plow, upending her little family and no doubt changing the entire course of her existence. Goodness, she had plans!

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,

Gang aft agley, (often go awry)

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

For promis’d joy!”

Ah, the best-laid plans of mice and men…. The saying is so familiar to us it rolls off our tongues without a moment’s thought when a change of plans forces us to change the course of our day-to-day existence of our well-planned lives. Think about it. Nature has been messing with even the most-prepared (or so we thought) of us. Brutal storms shut down life as we know it – from blizzards in Buffalo to floods in once fire-ravaged California. Think of all the plans upended.

And of course, there, lurking in the background is an almost three-year long pandemic. Today, it is hard to have well-planned lives when the whims of COVID-19 are at play. COVID-19 brought our mortality to the forefront of our thoughts. In an instant, all our plans went up in viral flames and left us standing in the ashes. We are still trying to get community life “back to normal”.

Sometimes the change of course isn’t instigated by a one-off event at all but a gradual realization that your present life is not what you expected or wanted it to be. Moments and realizations like these often beg the questions: Why even have a plan at all? Who’s in charge here?

Working as I do for a former Marine in the financial planning industry, we have plans or as we call them SOP’s (Standard Operating Procedures) for everything from scheduling appointments to writing reports to technology breakdowns to managing your portfolios to closing up shop for the day. If the power goes out, I can reference our handy three ring binder to find the SOP for working the old-fashioned way! It is amazing how difficult that can be!

While we like to expect that bull markets will reign supreme, we know that the very nature of our business is a roller coaster ride of change. Do we deviate from our written SOP’s? Certainly. No situation is the same, but by having a plan in place beforehand we have a frame of reference from which to launch our response. This response provides us at least part of the answer to the second question: who is in charge here? We are because we know how to react on our toes. We have well-practiced strategies in place.

Now, I will be honest with you, I have yet to find or write an SOP for life. Some will say the Bible is the only operator’s manual you need for living. While that is an excellent Plan A as a source of divine guidance, I need a Plan B for the business side of life. Thus, I am making sure I have a plan for my life when I am no longer “in control” of it.

One evening over dinner, after listening to a group of us share the goings on in our lives and noting how many of our plans and expectations had changed over the last several months, a dear, wiser, much older friend of mine took a sip of wine and remarked with a knowing smile that one of her favorite sayings was an old Yiddish Proverb: “Man plans, God laughs.”

Of course, this notion frustrates me to no end; yet, I know how very true it is. I like to be in control; but in the end, I know who is ultimately in charge. Nonetheless, my responsibility is to be prepared and react wisely to the changes that occur in life.

My wiser older friend on the other hand was completely satisfied with this concept and her life was richer because of it. The morning after our dinner gathering, I received a call that her husband had gone to bed that night and never woke up. In that moment, all of my friend’s reasoning and carefree logic shared the day before came sweeping over me. As I sat with her later that day, she had a peace about her that was inspiring. We talked about her husband and the joys they shared during their 56 years of marriage.  Employed as I am in the financial planning world, I asked her, somewhat awkwardly, if they had “you know, made plans?”

 “Of course! We settled all of that stuff years ago,” she replied matter-of-factly. And because of those plans, during this sudden change in the course of her life, she could focus on just being Nancy. When Nancy passed away, she had outlived her husband and her son. Another friend of mine was left to “close the books” on her life. While never easy, Nancy had made plans so my friend wasn’t left to guess what she wanted – from the kind of service to where her assets went.

One of the best gifts of love you can give your loved ones is an SOP for the end of your life. Don’t leave the burden of reading your now dead (sorry to be so blunt) mind to your family in order to write your final chapter. Don’t “not give a hoot” because, inevitably, someone who cares about you will be left to deal with the state, courts, and government as they handle your affairs.  I write from personal experience having walked through the aftermath of the seemingly well-planned state of my parents’ affairs and watched my brother handle the affairs of my uncle – who did not make any plans.

Take responsibility now for what you hope never happens but at some point, most assuredly will. Yes, I am talking about having a will and having advanced directives in place – even if you are single with no children. Make sure all your financial accounts have payable on death or transfer on death instructions. Make sure your beneficiaries are up to date. Did you know, the beneficiary instructions on your accounts supersede what you have in your will? Make sure both accurately state your intentions. Formally state what you want done with your possessions and have it legally documented.

One of the most satisfying parts of my job is helping a grieving spouse or surviving children close out the financial chapters of their loved one’s life.  Being able to tell them they have nothing to worry about, that their loved one had everything lined out ahead of time and that all I will need is a death certificate and a few signatures takes a very heavy burden off weary shoulders.

As the year unfolds for all of us, we of course hope for nothing but the best. There is much to look forward to. What that is – who knows? But I am ready to meet tomorrow with open arms, a smile, a skip in my step, and a warm embrace. I have plans!

And, when New Year’s Eve 2023 rolls around, I hope that I am celebrating all the wonderful people in my life and giving thanks for all the good times we had this year.  But I also know that I may be thinking about those I have loved and lost – or God forbid – they will be remembering me.

God may laugh when we make plans, but by having a plan we can laugh, cry or just be at peace right alongside God when our best-laid plans go awry.

“Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a town and spend a year there, doing business and making money.” Yet you do not even know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wishes, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogance; all such boasting is evil. Anyone, then, who knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, commits sin. – James 4:13-17

Whatever 2023 has in store for you, let your light so shine!

Oh, What a Year – 2022

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“People cannot discover new lands until they have the courage to lose sight of the shore.” – Andre’ Gide

In the waning hours of 2021, I could not have fathomed what awaited me in the year to come. I was so caught up in myself and giving my life over to pain that I could not see much past tomorrow. I could not imagine that the words of a stranger but fellow sufferer would bolster me on a journey that would change my life and change my way of being in the world.

“Right now, your pain has no purpose and will only get worse.

After surgery, your pain will have purpose and you’ll only get better.” 

Those words were shared with me in a Facebook support group by a fellow runner and now fellow hippie-sis just a few days before I became bionic and was having second thoughts and way too much fear for the seeming unknown.

While her words were meant to encourage me as I faced down total hip replacement surgery – they rang true for the place in life I had been residing since my annulment and the back-to-back deaths of my parents. For 6 years I had been living in physical pain – popping enough Advil to earn me a blood transfusion but it was my mental anguish that kept me running – running through life and running away from life. I was lost; I was heartbroken; and I had failed in life – in a spectacular way. I couldn’t face myself because I didn’t know who I was anymore -beyond the pain and beyond my failures.

As 2022 dawned I was resigned to more of the same until one day in February I could not walk. My right hip had had enough of me pushing through. I went to my physical therapist who worked me over and got me walking again but something inside me knew this was a turning point. When I finally got in to see an orthopedist and heard the words “never run again and hip replacement” and left with a prescription for Oxycodone (which I never filled) I felt like the earth had stopped but I was still spinning away.

I spent a few weeks on the DeNile River in the Land of Woe but it got me nowhere. My pain – physical and mental- served no purpose and the longer I let it control my life it would only get worse.

It was then that I started to catch glimpses of my former self – the one who could do hard things – who had lived through hard things before – even faced down death. The fighter who smiled and laughed and knew joy and had purpose. Where had she gone?

I decided to find her and embarked on what would be a significant year-long transformation.

With a surgery date on the calendar – I began a training regimen with my physical therapist. I was determined to go into the surgery strong so I would come out strong. This gave me purpose. I am a determined woman. Occasionally my determination is mis-guided – but not this time. I succeeded!

As my strength came back, I was determined to find – not my former self again – but who she became and can still be.

It was hell.

Thank goodness part of my recovery plan was walking because I took a lot of long soul-searching walks and spent time doing some serious internal excavation – digging up long rooted and now rotted ideas of myself and replacing them with good soil in which healthier ideas and ways of being can grow.

We don’t always end up where we intended in life. Long before reaching our final destination, life happens, and we are forced to change course. My naive college vision board at 18 and the “seasoned” 26-year-old me’s long-range plans seem foreign to me now. I’ve always admired those who had a dream at a young age, made it happen and then kept realizing it and living it. In truth, that happens to only a very lucky few.

A BBC article discussing the topic of identity says that some people “struggle to imagine their future self as a continuation of the person they are today… It’s almost as if they see their future self as a separate person that has little connection to their present identity.”

While I struggle with seeing my future life as a continuation of today or seeing it at all for that matter –given how this year unfolded – I don’t see that as a negative thing and I certainly don’t envision myself being a stranger to who I am today. On the contrary, it is because my future seems – at least right now – “unrevealed” – that gives me hope and something to look forward to discovering!

But creating a vision for the second half of life is not as easy as it would seem.

The questions of “Who am I” “What do I want to be when I grow up?”, and “How am I going to get there?”  have leveled up a critical notch to Who have I become?” and “What have I done with my life?’ and “What do I do now?”

When the future was a long way away, the answers seemed so easy. Heck, we could be anything we wanted anywhere we wanted (for the most part.) Dream away! But when we have less of a future ahead of us than we have behind us, there is far more at stake – or so we tell ourselves. Having lost a dear friend to cancer this year – who had so much life ahead of her and had lived her life so fully – really made me stop and think about those questions again.

“Who have I become?” “What have I done with my life?’ “What do I do now?”

But here’s the thing that brings me so much joy on the cusp of a new year. I am actually excited by these questions again!!

That I have been given the opportunity to make a course correction and say yes to life is positively thrilling and a bit daunting.

As I close this annual tradition of reflection and evaluation of where life has brought me and who and how I want to be, I am grateful for those purposeful words of encouragement that helped me accept the challenge before me, make the most of.it and emerge better for it!

I am grateful for the doctors who made my walking, hiking and yes even running again possible. I am grateful for my family and dear friends who walked with me in every sense of the word.

As this “unfathomable year” draws to a close I can honestly say I am so much better because of it! I feel wonderful, healthy, and strong. I feel like Erika again!

I am at peace with life – my life. That is so freeing!

I am finding awe in the present and joy in sharing life with others, in place of pain, regret, and darkness – my old friends. .

Having said that, I am so thankful for the journey that has brought me here today – to who I am! In the journey, I became strong.

There is much to look forward to. What that is – who knows? But I am ready to meet tomorrow with open arms, a smile, a skip in my step, and a warm embrace.

“People cannot discover new lands until they have the courage to lose sight of the shore.” – Andre’ Gide

Happy New Year!!!

Let your light so shine!!!

Remembering… With Joy!

/ erikamorck / Leave a comment
Christmas 2012

It’s been 10 years since I celebrated Christmas with my family. I had no idea that December 24th and 25th of 2012 would be our last Christmas together but I remember it as one of our best. There were the usual ruffled feathers over Christmas decorating and getting to church on time for the multiple candlelight services we helped with and of course – the very quick supper of Swedish meatballs and potatoes. That was a step up from our supper the year before – when we slurped Campbells New England Clam Chowder with a can of potato soup added to make it “a little more special” before dashing off to church. I intentionally use the word “supper” as dinner would falsely elevate the nature of our Christmas “feasts.”

Once home for the night, I played Christmas carols on the piano for my dad as we awaited my brother Fred and his wife Kathie’s arrival and my mom to finally come down from her last-minute Christmas efforts to join us around the tree. The peanut brittle and nuts, eggnog and hot cocoa were ready to see us through a Christmas Eve that would last until the wee hours of the morning. Long past our dog Tucker’s bedtime – but even he managed to stay alert for anything that just might taste good.

Most of my family Christmas’s had a – let me just say – high emotional content – sometimes hair-trigger level – but not that last one. For once, there was nothing but warmth and love and even laughter. I will treasure that last family Christmas forever.

I’ve had a decade of Christmases since: Christmases spent with an Irish Catholic family three times the size of mine (something I had always dreamed of after watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies), Christmases spent pining for home when I couldn’t get home, Christmases spent with dear friends and their extended families, a first Christmas without Mom followed by a first Christmas without Dad but with a new puppy, a newly-wed Christmas followed by a newly-annulled Christmas, a COVID solitary Christmas, a Christmas spent hiking to a mountain lake by myself, Christmas’s spent with special cousins, and finally this Christmas.

This is the first Christmas I have spent in the present! No, not hiding in a miraculously wrapped package under the tree- but in the here and wonderful now!

The past few years I have lived in the foregone certainty of my past while running through and from my life. The past, you see, really was an idyllic setting. Time and distance do wonders for the past. It’s amazing how good it looks and feels with age! It was a time and place that didn’t know immense grief, betrayal, and most of all constant pain. A place where I had control of life – before things went haywire.

I spent most of the summer recovering from surgery and learning to walk again. As I think about it now, I was also learning how to live again. Being forced to rest and “deal” with my life rather than running through and from it, finally put me on a positive path. I have a whole new appreciation for who I am, and who I can be. I spent time examining my failures and made peace with them. They will no longer control the direction of my life. Period!

That my life isn’t what it used to be or how I had once imagined it would be or what I or what others think (or I think that they think) it should be – makes it no less worthy of living and no less worthy of joy!

This is the first Christmas I am looking back on all those Christmases past filled – not with sadness and melancholy – but with joy and gratitude and awe. Joy for the love planted and still grows within me, gratitude for the good, sad, hard, and lonely times that shaped me, and awe at this ever-surprising gift of life we get to journey through. This is the first Christmas I feel truly content – at peace with who I am and how life is and how I am celebrating the birth of the Light that has always lived in me – shining through it all.

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it. I am living proof!

May the light of Christ shine as brightly in your life as it is mine – that is my Christmas prayer for you. And a reminder to cherish every moment of life.

Merry Christmas.

Christmas 2022

This Life is the Very Best Gift

/ erikamorck / 2 Comments

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” – C.S. Lewis

The things we leave behind…. This time of year always finds me in a reflective state of mind. A state of mind that has become nearly as traditional as all the traditions that bring on such erstwhile musings – the cherished Christmas tree ornaments, Christmas carols from my childhood, the art of writing Christmas letters, watching Rudolph on TV for the 47th year in a row, holiday baking, and wrapping presents “just so”.  It’s hard not to be nostalgic for those rose-colored times of yore when life was simpler, laughter was more frequent, wonder took precedence over skepticism, and I was naive to the rushing, crushing ways of the world.

While yesterday may not have much to be desired for, yesteryear seems downright resplendent! You know, before the pandemic, before things fell apart, before illness, before betrayal, before saying yes, before saying no, before Mom and Dad died, before moving away, before graduating from college, high school, kindergarten… Before, before, before: insert your own “past-tensity” here.

When present times are difficult the past is a much more inviting place to reside – and with each passing day, the past becomes longer and more encompassing.  In the comfort of the past, you have seen it all and you know how to make it through each day. You are, in fact, living proof of that certainty, you tell yourself.

The past few years I have lived in that foregone certainty. It really is an idyllic setting. Time and distance do wonders for the past. It’s amazing how good it looks and feels with age!

A time and place that didn’t know immense grief, betrayal, and most of all constant pain. A place where I had control of life – before things went haywire. Ironically, 5, 10, or 15 years from now I will probably be saying the same thing about today.

Last year as I was decorating my Christmas tree, I was in tears – longing for the one gift that could never be mine – the past. There was just too much wrong with the present and the future was too unknown to be hoped for.

The unhappy person is never present to themself because they always live in the past or the future. – Soren Kierkegaard, Danish poet, author, philosopher, and theologian.

Kierkegaard said that the more a man can forget, the greater the number of metamorphoses which his life can undergo; the more he can remember, the more divine his life becomes.

When you are in the thick of things it is sometimes easy to forget that you survived the very past you long for. Your past has prepared you for your present and your present is laying the foundation for tomorrow- whether you are aware of it or not. While our present can only be realized by surviving the past, our future depends on the now.

Indeed, in my Yuletide tears of yore – as recent as last Christmas – I could not have fathomed how different my life would be today. This realization struck me as I was hanging the last of my mother’s and now my heirloom lace snowflakes on my Christmas tree – my past melancholy had melted away. My present was my present!

Well actually, there are many gifts this year that steered me to my present – gifts that may not have been perceived as such at the time – like a deteriorated hip which led to a total hip replacement and a huge medical bill, not to mention the complete loss of “control” and independence that comes with recovery from major surgery.

I spent most of the summer recovering from surgery. I liken it to time spent in a cocoon. Sounds like a great time, right? Certainly not! Or so I thought. But in truth, the pause in daily life as usual I was forced to observe gave me life – not just my life back – but gave me life. Being forced to rest and “deal” with my life rather than running through it as my modus operandi had always been finally put me on a positive pathway. I have a whole new appreciation for who I am, and who I can be. I also learned to trust again – seeing that others wanted to and did come through for me – including the Health Care Sharing ministry I joined years ago but never “tested”. At some point in my life I lost the ability to trust others – having been used, hurt or betrayed one too many times. Trusting beyond the boundary of myself again opens so many doors to life.

I missed out on so much life because I was just trying to manage my physical and mental anguish in ways that were not helpful. Not everyone gets a second chance at life – this will be my third. They say the third time’s the charm. I’m not going to waste it!!

In the months since my metamorphosis, I have been revisiting past joys and embarking on new adventures. I haven’t had this much outright FUN in ages!  I pondered all of this as I hung that last heirloom snowflake. I realized that I was happy – that I am happy in all its wonderful present tense-ness. Who I am is who I am.

That my life isn’t what it used to be or how I had once imagined it to be or what I think it should be, makes it no less worthy and no less worthy of joy! I am also no less worthy of rest, no less worthy of respect, no less worthy period.  I am a survivor of life – a divinely inspired one – every bit as much as you are.

Theologian Henri Nouwen gave words to my moment of divinely inspired contentment, (emphasis mine): 

“I know that, alone, I cannot see, hear or touch God in the world. But God in me, the living Christ in me, can see, hear and touch God in the world, and all that is Christ’s in me is fully my own. His simplicity, his purity, his innocence are my very own because they are truly given to me to be claimed as my most personal possessions… All that there is of love in me is a gift from Jesus, yet every gesture of love I am able to make will be recognized as uniquely mine. That’s the paradox of grace. The fullest gift of grace brings with it the fullest gift of freedom. There is nothing good in me that does not come from God, through Christ, but all the good in me is uniquely my own. The deeper my intimacy with Jesus, the more complete is my freedom.”

It is frightening to contemplate how much of our lives we cede to despair, pain, frustration, anger, sorrow, contempt, fear, control, etc., I could go on. If only we could always be mindful of God’s gift of grace in our life and leave those other things behind.

I am so grateful I was given the opportunity to dare to know myself again, to dare to live again, and to hope again – that we might all see, hear and touch God in this world, always.

“To dare is to lose one’s footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.” – Soren Kierkegaard

Wishing you and yours a blessed Christmas filled with all the joys and grace of this most wonderful life.

Let your light so shine!

Food For the Journey

/ erikamorck / 3 Comments

It’s that time of year again.

What do those words conjure up for you? Excitement, stress, joy, dread? Maybe you have already partaken in long held traditions heralding the arrival of the most wonderful time of year or perhaps your tradition is the unwelcome arrival of the blues. Perhaps nostalgia takes hold with thoughts of better times or maybe this present time is the best time of your life for which you are in full celebration mode!

My email in-box is rife with consumerist fodder appealing to my seasonal emotions and the necessity to buy into the tradition of buying. It is also filled with reminders of how little time I have left to get my act together if I want to have perfect holiday celebrations.

As I write, I am listening – though not intently – to the host and guests of the radio show The Splendid Table discuss the impending tradition-rich Thanksgiving holiday. Food and family are the essence of this holiday. And while the original Thanksgiving holiday probably didn’t look, taste or feel anything like the “traditional holiday” we practice today – we hold fast to the sentiment that gathering around food – especially with those we love – imbues.

Indeed, food and family are the essence of life. None of us would be here today had we not spawned from a family of some sort and we could not survive without food. That I am writing and you are reading this missive means we have both succeeded in coming from a family and found enough food to eat. Yay!

And yet these two basic necessities for life can make life fraught. Food. Family. Ugh.

Our culture has a complex and conflicting relationship with both.

We value the abundance of both and yet most of us at some time or another have endured times of scarcity or suffered from over indulgence; likewise, we have likely experienced times of loneliness or immense homesickness and times when we wondered how we came from the same gene pool.

Our lives are governed by the foods we choose or choose not to eat, and our identity is borne from the family life we have or don’t have.

We hunger for satiation while being told or feeling compelled to restrict, we venerate the family ideal while many families are broken or at the breaking point.

We bring all of this complexity and conflict to the Thanksgiving table every year on the 4th Thursday of November – whether we are surrounded by two, ten, twenty, or none at all.

I am blessed to say that I bring all of the above life experiences to the table. How about you?

I have experienced the immense joy of generations of family around a common table saying grace, sharing a never-ending basket of soft, steaming Parker House rolls, vying for the turkey drumstick and trying to politely pass on the bitter cranberry relish. I have found community in a church fellowship hall filled with laughter and the chaos of two turkeys, 2 hams, and all the fixings being prepared by us for us on Thanksgiving Day, not on some other day so everyone can “still celebrate the real day the right way” because we were all most of us had – all 50 of us – to be with on Thanksgiving Day. 

Our last Thanksgiving with Dad.

One year my mom fixed toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for the four of us on the big day. I have had Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and saltine crackers by myself more times than I care to reveal right now. I have witnessed doors slammed and I have slammed doors on this day of blessing.  I have seen tears shed over a shattered heirloom casserole dish and shed tears at the realization that the last Thanksgiving dinner of my father’s life had just been eaten – barely so. For most of the last 10 years, my Thanksgiving tradition has been to be a part of someone else’s traditions or none at all.

I planned and brought forth Thanksgiving for my family 3 times in my life – it was wonderful. I savor those memories – rose-colored as they may be – as life is very different now.

Some years I have longed to be surrounded by family and friends without an invite or way to get home, others years I have politely declined invitations to join others in order to have one day of peace and reflection all to myself amid my working life’s chaos.

Perhaps you, like me, in certain seasons of life, have wondered, if only in the confines of your weary, stressed, dejected, scarcity-stricken mind, why? Why do we do this to ourselves every year?

It would be so much easier – if not healthier – to just chill for the day. And I am not by any means ruling that out!! Despite what the hosts with the most and all the gathering experts promulgate across the airwaves, social media, magazine covers (taunting me as I stand in the grocery line with my sliced bread and pasta sauce) and blogosphere, there is no “right” way to celebrate or observe this day.

As I reflect on the 45 of the 50 Thanksgivings that I can remember celebrating, I find it is the complexity and conflicting realities of my life that give Thanksgiving its true meaning. God does amazing things with darkness and chaos – just look at the earth and all of creation. 

The Thanksgivings that have garnered seats at the table of my memory and my heart are not the ones that came off with aplomb, epitomized tradition, or were even all that tasty. In fact, I can count on one hand the turkey breast, stuffing or dessert I can remember raving about.  The ones that stick with me are the ones where God’s grace shined through the chaos and conflict, through the fraught and frenzy, and through times of immense loneliness and loss. When the dancing glow of candlelight broke through the darkness at the table.

As someone whose life was stolen by the hands of a vicious eating disorder for 10 years many years ago, I used to dread this day of food and family. Freed from that death sentence, I now see Thanksgiving as a meal of and for life – celebrating the life I once had, honoring my current perfectly imperfect life, and providing nourishment for the journey ahead. It is an opportunity to give thanks for those I have shared and share life with, the lives of those reading these words, and those who don’t know I exist but someday might.

It is a day we can and should pause with a gratitude that goes beyond the ‘mine’ and ‘thine’ and claims the truth that all of life is pure gift. It is a day that provides fuel for, as the esteemed poet Mary Oliver penned, “(Our) work of loving the world” and spending our days living more fully into that job description.

No matter how we gather (or don’t) this Thanksgiving, no matter what is on the menu, for all of that and all of life’s glorious complexity, challenges, consternation, and curiosity, I will be giving thanks not just with my words but with my life. Will you join me?

“In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

1 Thessalonians 5:18

Wishing you and yours a blessed Thanksgiving.

Let your light so shine!

Imagine that…

/ erikamorck / 1 Comment

Today was one of those days – haven’t had one in a while – where a red light or smidgeon of blue sky in the inversion-bleh sky could make me cry. It was as if Mom and Dad had just died. The grief just washed over me and I felt completely alone – orphaned in this great big world – even alone in this place I call “home”. Not even a full week into the never-ending darkness and my “woe is me” was at a critical level.

But tonight, I mustered all the courage I had and gathered with a group I once called “my people” before annulment, before covid, before pain took all joy from my life – and I made an astounding discovery! They are still “my people” – and not only that – they were happy to see me!! All my social anxieties about being alone and going somewhere alone and being wondered about because I am alone were for naught!

I wasn’t alone once I joined in.

My God! I thought – imagine that???

I can climb mountains without a thought – but facing the world as I am – that’s a daunting endeavor that terrifies me.

As I left, I felt a wee bit stronger in my own boots and so grateful for the community and the kind souls that welcomed me in. You have no idea how much light your “small” kindness brought to me. Thank you. It feels good to “be back”.

Let your light so shine – always – you never know who might need it.