116: Celebrating Four Years | Q+A!
Back on April 1, 2020, the very first episode of the remind{h}er podcast was released into the world. And now, four years and 116 episodes later, here we are! Today, we are celebrating that four-year mark together by engaging in a q+a conversation of sorts. I’m grateful to each person who offered their questions, and I’m excited to dive in! It was neat to learn what you’re curious about and I love that, in a way, we’ve put this episode together, together. There was a little bit of overlap here and there with a couple of your questions, which I thought was kinda cool, so I’ve done my best to combine a few similar questions, while hopefully not skimping on the answers. It’s a longer episode, but we have five questions to explore today. Let’s get to it!
The first thing some of you were curious about was how this podcast came to be. How did I know I wanted to start a podcast? How did I come up with the name? Basically, what is the podcast’s origin story?
Well, while I don’t think I would have been able to articulate this back then, in the fall of 2019, I was very clearly in a creative rut. Which meant I really wasn’t feeling like myself. During that time, I attended a writing conference. I met some awesome people and left feeling inspired, although at the time, I didn’t exactly know how I would implement all I experienced there. During those few days, I actually had several people say to me, “You should start a podcast.” To which I politely replied, “Yeah, maybe.” But internally my response was, “Absolutely not. Everyone is starting a podcast. I don’t like to do what everyone else is doing. So, not happening.”
Well, needless to say, on my eight-hour drive home, I had a change of heart. I spent the whole drive in silence, processing everything from the past few days. And one question I was holding was, “What do I need in order to feel like myself?” A couple of those answers were that I need to write regularly, and I need to speak regularly, with my out-loud voice. I started to admit to myself that while podcasting seemed trendy, that wasn’t a good reason not to do it. It turns out, podcasting was actually the perfect creative format for who I already was. I would be jumping on the bandwagon, sure, but I would be doing it authentically. And that matters deeply to me.
This is where the name comes in. And as for that name, I wish I had more of an explanation. But on that same 8-hour drive, the concept and name, along with who I would be writing for, just sort of came to me. I felt like anytime I would share about something God was doing in my life, I would use the phrase, “God reminded me of or God reminded me that…” I knew I wanted to write for the women in my life {myself included} who felt anxious and distracted and prone to forgetting the heart, presence, promises and invitations of God in their day-to-day lives. And then, this might not seem like a big deal, but I liked that without the “h” in there, it was the simple word “reminder.” But with the “h” in there, it turned into an action, the purpose statement of the podcast, if you will—to remind her.
I remember thinking, “Surely there is already a podcast or blog or ministry with this name. If I get home and do some research and can’t find anything else using this name, I’ll go for it. But if I find it’s already out there, I’ll consider that my way out.” After a few days looking into it, I couldn’t find it anywhere, and I remember the moment when I said to myself, “Well, I guess I’m starting a podcast.”
Honestly, I still probably would have talked myself out of it. But here was the key: I decided to tell a few people about my idea. And really, without those people, I don’t know if this podcast would have actually happened. My friend Eva suggested I put a date on the calendar for when it would launch. So, in December 2019, I picked April 1, 2020 and committed to spending those few months leading up to it learning how to start a podcast. During that time, I met with a couple writer-friends, Kathy and Amy, and they helped me set doable goals each week to stay on track. And then my dear husband, Brad, cleaned out a hall closet in our house and turned it into the tiniest little recording studio you ever did see. My friend Meghan designed the original logo we used, and when I announced that this was actually happening, you all showed up with such excitement and encouragement and anticipation. All of it gave me the courage to keep moving forward, and now, here we are :) That’s her-story!
How do you choose what to talk about/cover in each episode? Where does your inspiration come from?
This is a great question, and actually, it stumped me a bit at first, because it doesn’t really happen the same way every single episode. Often it stems from something I’m learning or reading or experiencing. Every now and then, I’ll hear from a listener about something they are experiencing or even struggling with, so I’ll have them specifically in mind as I write. But if I had to sum it up, I’d say most of the inspiration comes from paying attention to my life. I think most writers would probably agree that that’s where it begins. I try to be intentional about noticing images or stories or conversations that can get me started. And I try to be intentional about noticing how God is showing up, how the Spirit is moving and leading, and how each episode might inspire us to be embodied reminders of the heart and character of Jesus in some way, shape, or form.
But really, it isn’t all easy inspiration; there’s a lot of discipline involved. Every other week, I have a deadline to meet, whether I feel inspired and great about what I have to offer, or not. And let me tell you, there are lots of weeks when I rely more on the discipline rather than inspiration. It can be challenging, for sure. But the neat thing is that creating this podcast consistently has become for me a spiritual practice of sorts {more on spiritual practices in just a minute}. I show up and offer whatever I’ve got {which sometimes isn’t much}, and with each episode, I’m learning once again to trust that what I’ve been able to put together is good enough for God to take and use in whatever way God sees fit.
Do you have a favorite episode?
Why yes, I do. Actually, I have three favorites! My most recent favorite is remind{h}er 112: Remember We Are Dust. I also love remind{h}er 31: Look For the Reminders. And actually, four years later, the very first episode, remind{h}er 1: You Are a Reminder is up there, too. If you haven’t listened to those, or if it’s been awhile, I’d love for you to tune in! And also, I’d love to flip this question back to you all, so stay tuned for a fun invitation in the tag of the episode :)
Is there a spiritual practice you have tried recently that you have continued? Are there any you tried that you wanted to make work but just did not work?
This is such a great question, and before I dive in, I think it might be helpful to define the term, “spiritual practice,” especially if you’re new around here. When we hear the term, we often think of the traditional spiritual practices like prayer, scripture meditation or study, worship, fasting, service, etc. And those are most definitely spiritual practices. Important ones. But I’ve come to believe that anything can be a spiritual practice, if it’s done in the presence of God. Better yet, if it’s done with an awareness of God-With-Us. In the context of the remind{h}er podcast, a spiritual practice could be any consistent activity {or intentional lack of activity} that helps you remember your connection with God.
Okay, back to the question at hand. There are actually several new practices I’m trying out, and for the most part, so far, they are working. I’m going to do a whole episode on one of them soon, so for now, I’ll share another one that probably doesn’t seem super profound or anything, but it is making a difference.
Basically, I have started making the bed each morning. Now, making the bed is not necessarily brand new to me, but in the past, most days, it looked like pulling up the covers toward the top of the bed and that was the extent of it. I rarely took the time to actually make it look nice, arranging the pillows and refolding the blanket at the bottom of the bed. My excuse was that I’m not a morning person, and that’s still very much true. But in Scotland, I made a point to make the Airbnb bed each morning, and I noticed that ritual created a sense of calm and peace within me. So, when we returned home, I thought I’d carry on the practice. And so far, about three weeks in, it is in fact, still making a difference for me.
As Tish Harrison Warren writes in her book, Liturgy of the Ordinary,
“[Bed making] teaches me to slow down, to bravely enter a dull Tuesday morning, to embrace daily life, believing that in these small moments God meets us and brings meaning to our average day.”
Time will tell if it ends up sticking, but right now, it’s working.
As for a practice I’ve tried and found didn’t work? Right now, I would say long-form journaling is not working for me. It has in the past, for sure. And honestly, I won’t be a bit surprised if later on down the road, it starts working again. But the past six months or so, I find that each time I sit down to journal beyond my little One Line A Day book, it feels more like an obligation rather than invitation. More guilt-inducing rather than life-giving. And for me, that distinction can be really helpful in discerning whether something is working as a spiritual practice or not. Yes, obligations are a part of life. Sometimes being faithful means doing things we don’t necessarily want to do. A seamless, “feel-good-faith” is not what we’re after here. But if the point of a spiritual practice is remembering our connection with God, then yes, those practices will hopefully be things that give us life and energy. After all, it’s our connection with God that will sustain us in the more challenging parts of life. And so if a practice is draining me, and it’s not a non-negotiable, that’s usually a sign that it no longer fits for now, and I might need to give something else a try.
How do you hold grief and hope at the same time? Hope seems out of reach when life is hard.
What an honest, beautiful, relatable, difficult question. I’ll go ahead and start by highlighting the fact that I am not qualified to answer this question as a mental health professional. I know this, I know the person who offered this question knows this. But for the sake of being clear here, it feels important to say that before I begin.
What I can do here is explore this question as a human person who has both grieved and hoped {not always at the same time}. And I can hold this question as a spiritual director, who often sits with others in the presence of God as they grieve and hope, too.
Now, we know there is no foolproof formula for how to grieve, how to hope, and how to hold both at the same time. Grief shows up differently for all of us; even hope doesn’t always look the same. So instead of trying to respond with something that doesn’t exist, I’d like to offer a handful of questions I hope are helpful:
First, what might it look like for you to extend kindness and compassion to your grief? To, perhaps, welcome grief as a friend when she shows up? I know for me, it’s easy to treat my grief like an enemy, someone I tend to avoid or blame or feel ashamed of. But I wonder if a warmer, gentler welcome might be good for a grieving soul.
Second, what does “hope” mean to you in this particular season of grief? Breaking it down and naming more specifically what it is you’re wanting to experience alongside your grief might be helpful.
Third, what is your experience of God in your grief? Does God feel distant or near or somewhere in between? Honest answers only. Noticing—without judgement—your orientation toward God and how you perceive God is oriented toward you in this season might be worth paying attention to.
Finally, what might it look like to invite others into your grief? My tendency is to turn inward, but I notice that doesn’t leave space for much else. Maybe the truth is, we aren’t meant to carry grief and hope at the same time all on our own. Maybe the bigger invitation is to let a select few into our experience. And maybe those few can hold hope for us.
One thing I’m still learning and experiencing is that life is often one big contradiction. More often than not, that’s the way it is. And in light of the desire to navigate those contradictions, to hold together realities like grief and hope, I’d like to leave you with this blessing from Jan Richardson in her book, The Cure for Sorrow. This is Blessing for the Brokenhearted:
Let us agree
for now
that we will not say
the breaking
makes us stronger
or that it is better
to have this pain
than to have done
without this love.
Let us promise
we will not
tell ourselves
time will heal
the wound,
when every day
our waking
opens it anew.
Perhaps for now
it can be enough
to simply marvel
at the mystery
of how a heart
so broken
can go on beating,
as if it were made
for precisely this—
as if it knows
the only cure for love
is more of it,
as if it sees
the heart’s sole remedy
for breaking
is to love still,
as if it trusts
that its own
persistent pulse
is the rhythm
of a blessing
we cannot
begin to fathom
but will save us
nonetheless.