The Beauty of a 5 Year Statement 🍪

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“Grace Upon Grace”: A Tribute to Nancy Wieman Hall

Three years ago, Nancy asked me if I would capture her life story so she could read it as a speech to a women’s group. She said she “knew no better writer”. This obviously meant a lot to me (and made me very nervous about my work), but as I interviewed her and made notes – I realized something about my writing: it writes as the character speaks. I remember working on her speech and hearing her exact words and pacing in my mind.

Sadly, I didn’t see Nancy in the final months of her life. I keep checking in on that reality, expecting to find guilt – but it is not there. There is this peace. This awareness that – in some ways – my friendship with Nancy is only just beginning as I hear her even now.

Enjoy this speech – she said she imagined it could also be used to eulogize her, so it only seems fitting to share it with you all today, as we celebrated her faithful life. Rest in peace, my dear sister in Christ. In your service today, I felt God’s four letter word for you: MINE ❤️

Grace Upon Grace

Photographs of friends and family, passed around like a bowl of popcorn on a Saturday night – inviting stories, traditions and enjoyment of one another.

Comforting quilts made by my grandmothers – whose hands and attention stitched us together across time. 

How wonderful it is to have these pillowcases and quilts, threaded with even God’s mercy, as they have comforted us each in our personal needs and rest.

In my home you’ll find stacks of books upon “gotcha books” – each thoughtful in ways that really make you wonder. 

A favorite tradition of mine is to find a Christmas book to read aloud and share with others whether at our cherished PEO Christmas Program or gathered in my home for coffee. 

Doing so, a present which also brings us present, like children, to absorb the many ways God speaks to us. 

No matter how old you get – you are always a child. 

A child able to embrace that joy is always on the way. 

A child able to allow the little things – like the reflection light makes through cut glass – to spark joy like that which comes in the morning with the gift of another day.

Angels and fishing trips – 

Music and friendships – 

Like a Christmas tree is with its ornaments, my heart is full with gratitude for my favorite things; the things that make me smile.

So, now – let’s let them tell you about Nancy Hall. 

My Family and My Names:

An only child, I was born “Nancy” (“like a bell” my daddy would say) in 1936 to Edwin and Eleanor Weidman. 

A daughter and granddaughter, as time went on, my names grew to include “Ms. Weidman” as I was to my music students. 

A date to the mini opera led me to be “Girlfriend”, then “Wife” to Leon. 

And, of course, I became “Mother” to David and Melissa. 

The four of us share many memories enjoying Saint Louis, where our love of the Cardinals – which for me goes back to ballgames with my daddy – and our Muny seats have remained the same over the years. 

To be mother, to be wife. So very grateful am I for the gift of receiving a name. 

A gift a specific person brings you to be.

I became “Mother in Law” to David’s wife, Caroline, and Melissa’s husband, Jeff.

I am “Nana” to Catherine, David, Daniel and George, and to Julianne, Caroline and Celia. 

The richness of memories traveling with my family: Hilton Head and Westover, Stanford and Sweden, and all the many field hockey tournaments <are rivaled only by the magnitude> of the Grand Canyon – where we also have travelled together.

These memories are precious and as beautiful as a table set with white plates and crystal.

My Travel. 

I remember the jammies I wore on my first train ride. 

Traveling with my mother to Oakland for my daddy’s ship to come in, watching from the window as the landscape changed from the midwestern plains to the rushing streams and mountains of Colorado, until we arrived in California and met its bridges, flowers, sunshine and my first ever apricot. 

Whether it was the people I befriended or the wonderful places I went, travel became a gift I would experience over and over again in my life. 

Sunday afternoon cruises with daddy in the car around town became Sunday afternoon cruises up <the river in Prague> with Leon. <placeholder for the 10 year Passion play in Germany, World’s Fair, music festivals, National Parks, visiting relatives tie together>

The wonderful people I would meet in all the different places – each with their own story, each of them ordinary, each of them children… 

Experiencing people on a human level grows you, you see, because they are as you are. 

My travels and my friendships did exactly that. And I am thankful. 

My Friendships. 

“Make new friends, but keep the old.”

Your friends are the ones who know your stories. 

I have always made friends easily, all my life.

Camp friends and school friends, church friends, Bible Study Fellowship and PEO and of course those who share my love of music…

…what a gift it is to have a friend who can bring you back to yourself and to certain parts of your life with a letter, shared memory or a kind smile. 

The first angel in my collection is a gift from my high school music teacher who befriended me. 

After a concert where the choir sang “Glory to God” <in exuberance> from the rafters, my teacher gave me a conductor angel – a memento bringing together worship, friendship and music. 

This memento began a lifelong hobby of collecting and receiving angels.

My Angels.

Wood, crystal, porcelain and metal – my collection of angels are made up of all different materials and are a treasure to me. 

Filling my home, each one has a story of origin, chosen by me for its face or given to me by a thoughtful friend.

Angels are the messengers of God, and though the many angels in my home celebrate this: 

I do not need these angels to know that the Lord speaks directly and personally….

My Faith

// God giveth free – 

light from above –

cometh to me – 

that I may tell others the joy in this place – 

seeking upon knowing – 

grace upon grace – //

The gift of a name has been given to me by others. 

Maturity given to me by travel and experience. 

Friends have given me angels and stories. 

But the Lord? 

The Lord has given me the gift of a song in the night. 

A song in the night, that came in exact melody and <lyrical form>, a demonstration of how well God knows his children. 

That we can receive such gifts unique to our individual lives is so special. 

Your life shows your priorities. 

When I look back on my life, from my earliest days involved in the church – looking down the pew on <Sunday morning> for my various family members to later in life finding family in church community – such as my Wednesday CoreGroup, I know my time has been spent cherishing where God, friends and music come together giving Glory to God. 

Glory to God. May it be so. 

For Jesus loves me. This I do know. 

Sweet like Christmas cookies and the countenance our faces have upon them, 

I cherish the special season of Christmas and the times we gather together – 

for what better way to give Glory to God, than with friends? 

GIVE – a four letter word. 

Like KNOW and like GROW, 

And so it begins – 

I look for four letter words as a practice of my faith. 

UPON

SEEK

KIND

And 

LOVE

These four letter words connect me to God and greater things above. 

// Love God and your brother – 

And live to serve and give – 

That you may be just and worthy – 

By the Christlike life you live // 

Grace upon Grace, even my name “Nancy” celebrates this gift. 

Comforting like my grandmothers quilts, the thought of grace, my spirit lifts. 

I am so very thankful. 

For Jesus – 

He loves me. 

This I do know. 

Glory to God. 

May it be so.

Curtains & Shadows

Last week, I brought a couple of canvas panels I had once used to create a “crunchy” yogi house vibe up to the studio where Lucy (16 y/o) started putting them together to create some shade in the main studio.

Over the course of her figuring out her machine and getting a few put together, there was some how a mix around and she stitched two in such a way that the fray was out the outside and the vision I was headed towards was lost unless they were redone. I imagine she felt kind of bad, but she was also fatigued from figuring out the bobbin and it was really OK. I just needed to figure out what to do… “restorative yoga starts July 12th”.

I can already tell this blog has a lot to say. Get a coffee or get comfy and just take a deep breath in.

<inhale>

So it’s a week later and in between that MJ infused sewing session and now, the following things have happened:

  1. I walked into my backyard one morning and the exact corner where my fence & house met was lit up with sun (normally total shade) and – upon examination – I saw the sun was perfectly positioned between the branches of two trees, casting a perfect light from a northeast corner of the sky into this corner. Naturally, I made shapes with my shadow and spent some time considering the figure in front of me. What were the odds? This was such a rare alignment. I stayed till the sun moved and my shadow wasn’t as prominent anymore. On to take care of the things, the dogs, the business, the kids, and – my favorite – my husband. In the land of the living, one’s shadow tends not to consume the life.
  2. I went to the fabric store with my mom & picked out some chiffon & some utility white nonsense. We spent the afternoon configuring some panels together so that, by the time my class rolled around, I had a distinctly different tone in the studio as a marker of my first restorative practice taught in the new space.
  3. I taught aforementioned first restorative practice in the new space. The two that stayed for the deep restorative “got there” (saw colors, felt the weighted blanket, experienced a sense of peace / relief in the physical body) and the three that came for the hour of breath / awareness of sensation and opening poses seemed to smile and enjoy the practice. All in all – it worked.

The present moment:

I am at OM and can hear Jane teaching in the main studio. I am in the front room with the next iteration of the curtain. It’s on the floor to my left and I have about one drink of coffee left and 45 minutes before its time to sage & prep the studio for a private party of friends, ready to experience the magic of a solid hour on their mat and in their bodies.

I am in my overalls with some sewing pins & a pen tucked in the pocket. My hair is in what I am hoping appears to be an artsy bun. 🤞🏼

I am deciding to write in this moment because it is not lost on me that the “mistake” Lucy made back in sewing the panels ended up being the starting point of what I am now incredibly excited about. I took the chiffon vibe that “made do” down and hung up the panels Lucy put together using the exposed fray as the crease over the curtain rod across the windows of the studio. It looked so cool. And reminded me of a studio in Santa Monica where I experienced healing. (The picture of their window & curtain is on my desk, if you ever want to see it when you’re here.)

With new inspiration that perhaps the curtain can showcase the creative spirit of the studio, I grabbed some fabric a friend gave me from her trip to Mozambique and began to pin it up the side, adding a little bit of practical width but also a sense of art: the story of women, life milestones and the woven nature of friendship and how friends help you see yourself.

Maybe sad and angry people simply need a good friend…

I think about the people in my life that are grieving, that are hurt, that are lost and that are lonely and my heart kind of aches in this moment.

What will they find on the internet that claims to help them heal?

What will they buy that the world says will make them feel better?

<Lord, have mercy.>

What I love right now is that any shame Lucy might have felt in her mistake can be lifted and resolved, as it was that mistake that reminded me there are no mistakes, only ways in to the next thing – the higher awareness – the light.

I love that in acting on the inspiration, I was reminded of a time I was healed physically by time on my mat, breathing into my body, allowing hydration to settle in and a yoga teacher to guide me through a sequence she thought of from her practice.

This. is. art. This is the constant unfolding.

This is the long game for healing…

Hang with me, check this out –

The panels that Lucy put together were curtains that were once hanging in my house. I had pinned them on the rods and it was good enough for a single working mom who needed a little privacy until a day a gal I went to high school with came over. I wanted help tying my eclectic house together, she was an interior designer whose taste I have always loved; I thought it was a good idea.

As I saw her see my pinned up curtains, I felt an old familiar wave of “being an idiot” wash over me. I hung my head in my own lack of something.

Even now, that flashback flashes me back to my high school years where feeling stupid, feeling left out, wanting to fit in caused me to shapeshift, risk friendship for friendship and ultimately take me into the most isolated years of my life when I am sure the prayers of my parents were from places of worry, wanting me to remember my gifts and my beauty, and to ultimately believe in myself once again.

(They probably also prayed for good friends.)

The shadow is a funny thing:

It comes about in the light, like my shadow in that perfect timing in the sun.

It moves as the light moves, eventually going away (but never gone).

It requires / creates / is shade, which we desire in our studios & homes, bedrooms and porches whether through artsy or IKEA curtains.

Though it requires light to see, the shadow can be felt in the dark.

Yet a shadow is not by definition a shadow if it is felt alone. It must also be seen, thanks to light.

Basically: the interaction with the shadow is always up to you, the meaning you allow is always up to you, your balancing is always up to you.

Will I love the artsy couture curtain once it is hung? Maybe.

Might I be headed to “get something normal” upon seeing my 7th grade quality sewing job hanging on the rod? Also maybe.

But the only right answer? Is the one that comes from this rooted sense of self trust. Trust that interacting with the shadow shows the way through one’s mistakes and ultimately brings in the spirit of the light. ❤️