A Conversation with God

A Conversation with God

Hello God,

What a year, huh? I’m sure you’re swamped with prayers and petitions. I’ve come so many times, asking for guidance I need, answers to the same old questions, for forgiveness I probably don’t deserve. I’ve asked for intervention in the lives of people I love and for you to help me be strong, kind and wise. But here I am again with my hand stretched out.

What is it I need now? It’s peace I’m after. And to tell you the truth, I’m not even sure I understand what that means. However, I’m pretty sure I know what peace is not. It isn’t never being troubled or having things go my way. Peace is not a goal, an achievement or a prize. It’s not something I can make happen no matter how many classes I attend, how many books I read, or how hard I meditate.

These days, I hear lots of pithy sayings about peace. It’s every step you take. It’s the space between the breaths. It’s our true essence. I kind of get all that on one level, but actually, if someone asked me to explain how peace is the space between the breaths, I’d have to make something up and hope I sound smart.

In church, I’ve heard the words, “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding.” So, I guess it’s okay that I don’t understand it since whoever said that obviously didn’t. Peace isn’t something we can get with our minds anyway, now is it? Hmmm, is it possible that it’s really just a state of being? Being okay no matter what’s going on around me, like a boat with a deep rudder that can ride out the storm? But if I have to wait until the storms pass and the water is smooth to be at peace, then I’m going to be waiting a long time. And at this stage in my life, I don’t have that kind of time.

Now, here’s a thought. Maybe peace is giving up trying to figure out what peace is, to quit pursuing it, and to stop feeling bad about myself because I’m not as peaceful as I think I ought to be. In other words, being okay no matter what’s going on inside me. Being peaceful even when I’m not peaceful? Now, that is definitely a peace that surpasses all understanding.

I like it, God. Thanks for the chat. I didn’t have much hope that I’d leave feeling so satisfied, but what is hope anyway? I’ll be back another day and we can work through that one. For now, I’m good.

This piece, edited for length, appears in the December 2020 issue of O.Henry magazine in their feature article, “Prayers of the People.”
© Marilyn Wolf

Keep Walking

Keep Walking


As the final hot days of summer begin to make their way towards fall, we’re still wondering how long the chaos we’re living in is going to last.

Here’s what I see when I look down the road: A pandemic which is still wreaking havoc in our lives; racial and political unrest the likes of which we haven’t seen since the Sixties; a forecast of the worst hurricane season on record; wildfires on a scale not experienced before; and the nastiest, most complicated, and high stakes election in our country’s history.

These times we’re living through challenge every inner map we have with which to navigate the world. I say “through” because I believe that we will come out the other side of this, that we not stuck here, that this has not become a new normal for our country.

“Hope is being able to see the light despite all the darkness.”– Desmond Tutu

Recently I had a conversation on Zoom with a couple of friends about the difference between faith, trust and hope. We never came to a consensus, but it got me to thinking.

We are in a cave right now. A dark and treacherous cave.

Faith is what tells us we are in this cave for a reason even if we haven’t a clue what it is. In Hebrews, 11:1, we’re told that “faith is the conviction of things not seen.” Obviously, what’s not seen is the outcome of this mess we’re in, but spiritually and cosmically speaking, it’s also why we’re in it to begin with. Is this just the result of human beings’ careless and short-sighted choices? Is it some kind of really bad cosmic joke? Faith stirs in our soul and says, “No, it’s not that at all. Keep walking.”

Trust tells us that when, not if, we stumble and fall, there is something there to catch us, get us back on our feet and point us in the right direction. That something may be the God of our personal understanding, our spouse or partner, friends, family. It may be our inner strength, our human will, or our innate resiliency. It doesn’t matter what it is. Trust gathers itself up in our gut and says, “I’ve got your back. You aren’t alone in this cave. Keep walking.”

Hope is what tells us this cave is not a dead end, that there is a passage to an opening which leads to the other side. It’s not optimism and makes no promise of something wonderful awaiting us. It’s simpler than that. Archbishop Desmond Tutu says, “Hope is being able to see the light despite all the darkness.” Even though our human eyes cannot navigate in the pitch dark, our hearts can. Hope fills our hearts and says, “Close your eyes. Now, see the light. Follow it and keep walking.”

What’s a Little Sadness To Start Your Day?

What’s a Little Sadness To Start Your Day?

Since the start of the pandemic, like so many of you, my emotions have been a roller coast ride. But one day earlier this week as I was reading the news on my back porch with my coffee and dog, a wave of sadness washed over me. Bigger than anything I’ve experienced in this chaos, it caught me by surprise as tears rushed to my eyes.

Doctors and nurses are drowning with no lifeboats in sight. Teachers are hanging on a cliff waiting to hear final decisions about schools reopening. Business owners go to work, wondering if today is the day someone walks in and threatens or commits violence because they’re asked to wear a mask.

Every day, I learn more about the surge in COVID-19 cases and deaths. I imagine just how many people are walking the floor with desperate worry about loved ones they can’t be with. How many are bent over double with grief from the loss of spouses, partners, parents, grandparents, siblings, friends and children?

I’ve been reading book after book on racism, and my thoughts are filled with my African American friends and people of color I don’t know and never will. How do they bear the truth of what happened to their ancestors – the beatings, rape, torture and lynchings? How do they stomach the murders of people like Tamir Rice, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd, to mention just a few from a long list.

I can’t help but compare my own life experiences to those of others I’m so conscious of right now.

So far, my family and friends have been spared the virus, but not so for over 3 million people in our country which includes over 135,000 deaths. And we know there’s more to come.

None of my ancestors were enslaved. None of my relatives were hung from a tree simply because of the color of their skin. And we know that racism still rages in this country and that more tragedies are likely to happen.

You wouldn’t know it by reading this, but I’m a hopeful person by nature. Down inside, burning low but steady under this heavy blanket of sadness, my hope survives.

This time we’re living in has brought some hard truths our way. To fully wake up means seeing it all, feeling it all, living with it all. As much as it hurts, I choose being awake, knowing what I know, with every bit of this heartbreak and every ounce of this sorrow.

Possible is Everything: A Note to Us White People

Possible is Everything: A Note to Us White People

Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in a world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing. – Muhammad Ali

Is changing our world impossible? I know it’s easy for us to get tired and overwhelmed and start to believe it is. We can easily feel we have no power, or certainly not enough, to make a dent much less change the way things are and have been for so long – long before anyone reading this essay was born. Long before our parents and grandparents and their grandparents were born.

Here’s what I want to remind us of when Impossible feels bigger and badder than Possible:

Ali says Impossible is “an opinion.” That’s certainly true and we are choosing to shoulder the opinion of Possible and stand in the truth of it.

He says it’s “a dare.” We, along with millions of other people in this country and across the world, are willing to take that dare and go where that dare leads us.

He describes Impossible as “potential.” Well, so is Possible. That’s the potential we’re interested in. That’s the pilot light we want to fire up in other people with our words and actions.

Impossible, he says, is “temporary.” It’s those dark times when we feel doubt and even despair creeping in. Everyone who fights for equality and justice experiences those times. But they pass if we don’t buy into them and when we move ourselves into action. When these dark days pass, the light returns and we come back to the Possible that is permanent, that is Now.

Last and most importantly, Ali tells us that Impossible is nothing. Nothing! That’s what I want to shout from a rooftop. IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING! When we feel it, when we think it, it is just that – a feeling, a thought.

To bring about change, you must not be afraid to take the first step. We will fail when we fail to try.
Rosa Parks

What goes beyond thought and feeling is the Possibility we bring to this struggle to eradicate racism once and for all. It’s the Possibility that, not just through our attitudes and beliefs, but through our actions, hearts and minds can change and that someday, people everywhere will awaken and see the non-negotiable right for equality, justice and freedom for everyone.

Here is a list of books which many people are finding helpful these days. We hope you will find it useful in your own journey as an ally in the struggle against systemic racism. (They are not listed in any particular order.)

Waking Up White: And Finding Myself in the Story of Race by Debby Irving

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

White Awake: An Honest Look at What It Means to be White by Daniel Hill

I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown

How to be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk about Racism by Robin Diangelo

The End of Racism Begins As An Inside Job

The End of Racism Begins As An Inside Job

Having come of age in the 1960s, I must say that the events of the last week took me right back to that turbulent and shocking time of the Civil Rights movement – protests, marches, police brutality, terror and the unthinkable suffering of our Black citizens.

There I sat in our living room, staring at the TV as my parents tried their best to offer an explanation which would make sense to a fourteen year old white southern girl. Nothing they said worked.

I have not lived the fifty years since then under the illusion that our nation’s issues of race have been resolved, not even as I’ve seen people of color advance in every field and be elected to positions of power. Not even as I’ve seen a Black man be elected president.

The last few years have stripped away any veneer of racial equality which we may have wanted to believe we’ve achieved. The systemic racism which has existed for hundreds of years in this country is alive and well, and it continues to terrorize, enrage, breed despair and break hearts.

Have we come no further than this? As James Baldwin wrote, “There are too many things we do not wish to know about ourselves.” But something IS different this time. Maybe at last, we are willing to know some things about ourselves, painful as they may be, and to do things differently.

White people have taken to the streets in droves to protest alongside their black friends, most of them young. They too carry signs proclaiming, “Black Lives Matter” and “No Justice, No Peace.”  They too are angry and willing to risk their safety to stand with people of color in their communities.

In Louisville, Kentucky, a line of white women, arms locked, stood between the police and black protesters. This is how they decided to turn their privilege into protectiveness.

In Michigan, a sheriff took off his helmet and walked with protesters.  In other places, police officers have knelt with demonstrators. I saw a photo on Facebook of an officer giving a bottle of water to a young black man.

Here in Greensboro, the CEO of one of our largest employers issued a corporate memo with the subject line, “Taking a Stand for Racial Justice.” Groups are being formed by white people on Facebook to inspire activism, and white ministers are calling for their congregations to take a stand.

All of this gives me hope.

What heartens me the most however, because I believe it is the basis of the systemic change needed to really turn the tide, is this: White people, myself included, are finally willing to look in the mirror and see the subtle prejudice and racist thinking which exists in the recesses of our unconscious minds.

We are willing to admit that we don’t really know much about the black experience in America and that we have not challenged ourselves to learn. Not really.

We white folks, it seems to me, are willing now to fully take up the mantle of responsibility of ending racism and are coming to realize it starts within through uncomfortable inner examination and the commitment to grow in new and uncertain ways.

Over the last few years, I’ve come to realize that I don’t know much of anything about what black people really and truly have endured, what I call “the inside of the experience” because I’ve only witnessed it from the outside – maybe with a heart of compassion, but still on the outside of their experience, and also on the outside of my own.

Inner transformation is the foundation for any real change to come about in every area of life. It all starts as an inside job.

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice,” Martin Luther King, Jr. said. There is a universe out there, and there is a universe inside each of us. My hope lies in the fact that as we white people awaken more fully to our inner moral universe, we will ride its arc in permanent solidarity with our black brothers and sisters toward that long-awaited place of justice, equality, freedom and peace.