This week has been filled with one tragedy after another. We’re all struggling under a weight of sadness that has grown as the week has progressed. I don’t have explanations for the many senseless and tragic things that are happening around us. I do know this, though, the best way for me to face these things is to make sure I’m tending my soul well.

Tending to one’s soul is not escapism. It’s not trying to run away and stick your head in the sand, hoping if you don’t see the awful circumstances, they will somehow just go away. Tending to one’s soul is not selfishly focusing on yourself without regard for the needs of those around you. Tending to one’s soul is nurturing and nourishing, things that build you up so that you’re more able to engage in the life around you in a meaningful and positive way. I will be of no use to anyone who needs my words of comfort in the middle of their grief if I haven’t invested in my own internal reserves. In the wee hours when our fears are most likely to rear their ugly heads, I will not have the strength of mind to face down my fears unless I have been spending time filling my heart with things that are beautiful and good.

For me, soul tending includes practicing my spiritual beliefs of prayer and meditation, but it includes many other things, too. Taking two minutes to relish the visual contrast represented by the brilliantly coloured male cardinal highlighted in the sun as he perches on the branches of the cedar tree behind my house helps nourish my soul’s desire for beauty. Taking a moment to look at the faces of my family in the pictures hung on my office wall helps nurture my soul’s desire for connection. There are as many ways to tend your soul as there are individuals. A friend of mine posted a picture this week of the margarita and chips and salsa she was enjoying that evening with some family and friends, specifically because of the week she was having. She may not use the term “soul tending,” but I think that’s exactly what she was doing.

There’s a longer conversation to be had about the value of tending our souls well and why that is foundational to everything else we do, and I’ll be writing more on that in the coming weeks. For today, though, let me encourage you to take a few moments this weekend to tend your soul. Whatever you find beautiful, those things that fill your heart with grace, the things you know to be authentic and true, spend some time filling your mind and heart with these.

I would love to hear how you tend your soul well, or if this idea is new to you, how you plan to begin tending your soul well.

Photo: musical photo man

If you were meeting my sister for the first time, you’d see an accomplished professor of Old Testament studies, a woman who is known for her ability to see the truth and speak that truth without hesitation. At times I’m sure her students wish for a little less truth and a little more fudging the details, especially around the end of term when grades are given. She is also known for her dedication to her students, relentlessly encouraging them to completely inhabit their potential and abilities. What you learn as you get to know her is how transparently she lives her life before God. Socrates may have thought an unexamined life wasn’t worth living, a sentiment I agree with by the way. My sister shows with her actions that a life unexamined by God has not been fully examined. Not to imply that God is some kind of all-powerful taskmaster, constantly on the alert for the smallest mistake we make. Just the opposite. God is always available to help us understand who we are, what we’re capable of, and how we can live our lives fully as we were created to do.

If you’d met my sister as a child, I don’t think you would have predicted what she has accomplished and become today. Even as a baby, she was generally quiet and shy. She was small, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and she reminded me of Tweety-Bird (although without his brassy personality!). She was born two and a half years after me (to the day, I like to point out). She was a thoughtful child and in the family we said that she was so tender hearted, if you directed a harsh expression in her direction, you’d make her cry. She loved Stuart Little, Laura Ingalls and Lucy Pevensie. One thing that was evident from an early age, was her desire to know God and to be known by God.

I was lucky enough to spend several of my young adult years sharing an apartment with my sister. During this same period of time, I taught a class of first and second graders in the education department at the church where my sister was the Education Pastor. So you could say she was my boss, which was exactly what I said to my class. The kids all thought of her as the equivalent of a school principal and were consistently brought to giggles by the thought of me being sisters with the “principal.” But then, my sister has always been able to make people laugh. She has an amazingly quick sense of humour, and there isn’t anyone I’d rather trade movie quotes with (our favourite quotable movies include “The Princess Bride,” “Galaxy Quest,” “Roxanne,” and so many, many others).

When I think of the ways my sister influences my life, I’m immediately drawn to the Marcus Aurelius quote: “The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are.” For me, she embodies this description. Her habit of meditating with God is the foundation for keeping an untroubled spirit. Her habit of living transparently strengthens her ability to look at her life with clear-eyed honesty. Watching her live her life this way encourages and challenges me in my own efforts to live a well-examined life. My life is enriched as a result.

 
I hope these quick sketches of some of the women who have influenced my life are inspiring you to look for the influential women in your own life and celebrate the gifts they’ve given you. The other posts in the series will tell you more about why I’ve focused on these women, about the woman who taught me what it means to be a survivor, about the woman who showed me how men and women can partner together, and about the woman who inspired my sense of purpose. Let’s celebrate the influential women in our lives, and let’s be an influential example for the women and girls around us.

Rev. Evelyn Thompson circa 1985

Evelyn was my friend, my mentor and a second mother. She was born and grew up in the Los Angeles area in the early 1900s. Her father was a concert organist who had immigrated from England. Her mother was an evangelist and the daughter of Welsh immigrants who left behind their family and friends in Wales to follow the directions they believed they’d heard from God to share their faith with others around the world.

I was 16 when I met Evelyn. She was the main speaker at a summer camp I attended in Texas. I was intrigued by her speech with it’s traces of English and Welsh accents. She was only a little over five feet tall, and yet she carried herself with an almost regal grace that commanded respect and an attention to what she had to say. We were an unlikely pair from the start….this Victorian woman nearing 70 who refused to wear pants, even when making her way through the mountains of Mindanao on foot, because it wasn’t proper for a woman, and me with tom boy tendencies and a constant chafing against the rules.

Evelyn was the first person I’d heard talk about the way she wrestled with God in her relationship with him. I was more accustomed to descriptions of relationship with God sounding like a marionette relating to its puppet master. Her description of relationship with God was vivid and passionate and alive. I grew up in a pastor’s home. I’d been in more church services and heard more sermons that I wanted to think about and yet this was the first time I’d heard someone talk about God without suggesting you had to feel guilty before God would listen to you. My view of God was upended.

Evelyn lived an unlikely life, full of drama and adventure. She was a female pastor in an era that saw few women accepted in positions of influence and leadership. She built schools out of her great love of education and learning. She and her husband lived on the island of Mindanao in the Philippines for more than 15 years, building churches and schools. They traveled frequently in the mountains, interacting with the hill tribes, risking their health and their lives. They adopted several Filipino children during their time there and, even though they also spent many years in Korea before finally returning to the United States, Evelyn’s connection to the Filipino people and culture continued to be a primary force in her life until she died.

I have fond memories of sitting with Evelyn at the table in the breakfast room of her house overlooking Echo Park in Los Angeles, sharing tea and conversation for hours. She taught me the proper way to make tea, as she’d learned it from her mother. Only freshly boiled water was used or else the tea would become too bitter. The tea was set to steep for just so long, then the pot was swirled seven times before being replaced on the table to rest. Then, and only then, was the tea poured into the cups, to enjoy along with a bit of something savoury and something sweet. Like a true British woman, Evelyn had taken her love of a hot cup of tea into the tropical climate of the Philippines, declaring unabashedly that a hot cup of tea was the best thing in the world to cool one off on a hot, humid day. I loved her dearly, but she never convinced me on that one.

For a girl who had been raised without the benefit of exposure to the “proper” way to do things, Evelyn was a wealth of new knowledge. Whether it was showing me the correct way to hold a fork and knife, or providing the opportunity to hone my speaking skills, or ensuring I had the opportunity to meet influential leaders who could further my career, Evelyn was generous with her knowledge. She loved me and she wanted me to succeed, in ministry and in life.

More than any other lesson I learned from Evelyn, I think the one I value the most is the way she taught me about purpose. She believed with all her heart that every individual was born for a reason. She was resolute in her belief that we are each capable of achieving the purpose we were created for, in one way or another, and she instilled that in me. Whether in my secular career or my ministry experiences, I have found time and again a deep-seated certainty in my own heart that people are capable of amazing things. I believe we can continue to become better today than we were yesterday, and better tomorrow than we were today. I know without a doubt that this belief is a result of Evelyn’s influence on my life.

As Women’s History Month ends this week, I’m looking at the lives of several women who have influenced who I am and how I live my life, a series I’m calling “These Women.” The other posts in the series will tell you more about why I’m focusing on these women, about the woman who taught me what it means to be a survivor, about the woman who showed me how men and women can partner together, and about the woman who challenges me to live a well-examined life. I’m writing about a different woman each day this week and hope these stories inspire you to look for the influential women in your own life and celebrate the gifts they’ve given you.

In many ways my grandmother was stereotypical of her time and place. She married and had two boys. She was a stay-at-home wife and mother, primarily focused on tending to her home. In other ways she showed a clear tendency to make her own decisions and do things as she saw fit. She married against her step-father’s wishes. She and my grandfather eloped across the state line into New Mexico when she was 16. After she and my grandfather became Christ followers, they moved to Los Angeles to attend a ministerial training college. When they returned to Texas to begin pastoring, on many occasions she was the one who took to the pulpit and delivered the sermon, not a common sight in West Texas in the 40s and 50s.

For their entire married life, she and my grandfather managed the family finances together. They made decisions together. They were visibly and consistently concerned for the well-being of each other. They were for each other and partnered together. They had a deep love for one another that was the foundation of their respect for one another. Neither of them left the house without kissing the other goodbye, even if they would only be separated for a few hours.

By the time I came along, my grandmother had begun to experience significant health problems and spent much of her time resting. She had battled rheumatic fever as a child, prior to the availability of antibiotics, and her internal organs were weakened as a result. Bleeding ulcers further weakened her body and sapped her strength. My earliest memories of her include the frequent rest breaks she was forced to take, lying on the sofa on good days, staying in bed on the not-so-good days. Yet she continued to teach her class of young adults every week. She continued to fulfill her pastoral role, making herself available to people, caring for them in the midst of the crises and celebrations of their lives, a fully-fledged ministry partner with my grandfather.

A visit to my grandparents’s home almost always included a shopping trip with my grandmother. My grandmother enjoyed shopping, even if several hours rest would be required for her to recover afterward, and she seemed to take especial pleasure in shopping for clothes for her granddaughters. After having spent her entire adult life as the only female in her home, she was blessed with five granddaughters and we all benefited from her desire to share her love of beautiful clothes. As a little girl, I would watch with wonder as she entered a store, like a ship under full sail, head held high, handbag over her forearm, walking with purpose. Growing up with little money for shopping, I was entranced to see the sales people hurrying to help her, even in stores where she didn’t regularly shop. Something about the way she carried herself, this woman who’d done fieldwork as a child to help support the family, communicated to everyone who saw her that here was a woman who knew what she wanted and had the ability to get it.

I learned many things from my grandmother. I learned that women are strong, capable, decisive beings who can do whatever they set their minds to. I learned that physical weakness may be inevitable, but it doesn’t have to keep you from participating in life. I learned to place a priority on caring for the people around me. I learned that a wise woman keeps her own counsel, but also shares freely from the wisdom she has gained when she’s asked.

My grandparents had been married for 62 years when my grandfather died. I had the opportunity, privilege and (admittedly) hard physical work of living with my grandmother for a time after my grandfather died. She was mostly confined to her bed by then, and required full-time assistance, but she continued to care for those around her, spending time talking with and praying for her caregivers. The example my grandmother left me speaks to both the value of women functioning in ministry as well as the value of men and women partnering together in all aspects of life. She’s been gone some time now, but I’m still learning from the lessons she provided.

As Women’s History Month ends this week, I’m looking at the lives of several women who have influenced who I am and how I live my life, a series I’m calling “These Women.” The other posts in the series will tell you more about why I’m focusing on these women, about the woman who taught me what it means to be a survivor, about the woman who inspired my sense of purpose, and about the woman who challenges me to live a well-examined life. I’m writing about a different woman each day this week and hope these stories inspire you to look for the influential women in your own life and celebrate the gifts they’ve given you.

Although my grandparents didn’t live in the hardest hit area, in the aftermath of the Dust Bowl many farmers they knew were relocating to California in search of a more prosperous life. They became field workers in the burgeoning San Joaquin Valley. Their experiences weren’t dissimilar to those of the families portrayed in The Grapes of Wrath. My grandmother worked side-by-side with my grandfather in the fields. We don’t usually think of it this way, but this was one of the few places where women were paid the same as men for similar work since the workers were paid by the number of pounds of cotton they picked or trays of grapes they cut to be dried into raisins. Even though she was performing the same manual labor as my grandfather, in keeping with the culture of the time, she turned over all the money she earned to him. As the “man of the family,” he was expected to manage all the money and make all the financial decisions.

My mother tells the story of watching my grandmother work so hard in the fields and wanting to do something to make her life easier. In the fall after my mother turned 10, she approached the head cook at her school with a request. Were there any openings in the kitchen there that her mother could fill so she would no longer have to work out in the hot sun every day? The head cook was a compassionate woman and soon my grandmother had a job in the school kitchen.

I don’t know if it was while she was employed there at the school, or whether it was later after she’d begun working in the kitchen at the nursing home, but at some point there began to be a shift in the way decisions were made about money in the family. Grandma began to take some of her earnings and buy some nicer things for the house than grandpa would have done. She began to buy a few more clothes for herself. She opened an account at the bank in town and began to deposit her paychecks there. These changes were not without some negative reactions from my grandfather. On more than one occasion he (fairly loudly) accused her of wasting money. Since the depression, he’d had a strong suspicion of all banks and was convinced that she was going to lose all her money by depositing it in the bank. My grandmother kept the bank account and, even though she felt guilty at times, she continued to buy a few nice things for herself and the house.

My grandmother never had the luxury of deciding whether or not she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom or pursue a career. She had children to feed and bills to pay, and a farmer’s income is neither large nor steady. There was no question but that she would hold down a job. The family needed the money she earned. She was up before dawn every work day, driving the 10 or 11 miles into town from the farm. During the winter, she’d battle the heavy fog that regularly blankets the central valley of California at that time of year. How she hated and feared driving in the fog! But she got up every day and drove in the dark and the fog because she knew the residents of the nursing home were relying on her and her team to prepare their meals, and because that’s just what you do when you have a job….you do your job.

My grandmother never thought of herself as a feminist. However, she was happy to see her daughter and granddaughters having more opportunities than she’d ever had to make their own decisions, have good jobs and manage their own money. Above all else, my grandmother was a survivor. She taught me by her life and her actions that in the midst of incredibly challenging circumstances, it is still possible to find reasons to laugh and to love and to keep moving forward.

As Women’s History Month ends this week, I’m looking at the lives of several women who have influenced who I am and how I live my life, a series I’m calling “These Women.” The other posts in the series will tell you more about why I’m focusing on these women, about the woman who showed me how men and women can partner together, about the woman who inspired my sense of purpose, and about the woman who challenges me to live a well-examined life. I’m writing about a different woman each day this week and hope these stories inspire you to look for the influential women in your own life and celebrate the gifts they’ve given you.