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Take it from a saint who survived a pandemic: ‘all shall be well’

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on June 15, 2021 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/take-it-from-a-saint-who-survived-a-pandemic-all-shall-be-well

There is a time for everything, from taking creative time alone as a writer to enjoying the companionship of others.” (Hannah Olinger/Unsplash)

Sunshine floods the coffee shop through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I lick the crumbs of my chocolate chip cookie from my fingers.

Too often I overbook myself, not leaving time to just be and to create. This weekend I have walked in the sunshine through Vancouver neighbourhoods and found a quiet time to pen a few poems. Creative time alone is essential for me as a writer. I need solitude to think and let the words pour on to the computer screen or journal at hand.

I look down at the messages on Matchstick Coffee Roasters’ cookie wrapper:

“We don’t have all the answers, but we do have pastry.”

“Life can be complicated. Take a moment to yourself and enjoy what is, or maybe what was, in this bag. We hope it brings you the nourishment (and pause) you need.”

In times of sadness and fatigue I often have no words. These times have been challenging, with more distressing news as the weeks go on.

In order not to lose heart, I look to the sacraments, where Jesus can pour his love into me. Confession has been a source of renewal for me that I return to again and again. Attending daily Mass, I recommit myself to God. And in adoration I let the Lord shine his light in me.

Sometimes healing also looks like taking a nap. I lie down and tuck the covers under my chin. I adjust my eye mask and close my eyes. It feels so good to begin to feel sleep come over me, rosary beads in hand. I don’t have to be afraid. Mama Mary, as I like to call her, offers protection and prayers answered. And wherever Mary is, Jesus promises that he is here with me too. I can trust him. He is a faithful God. Warm waves of comfort expand across my whole body. I whisper, “Come, Lord Jesus.”

The house is quiet as I wake.

I say to myself, “Just be. Do not worry about the things you need to do tomorrow. My work is never finished. And if I don’t take time to restore, I will always feel exhausted.”

Better than the perfect words spoken at the right time has been the presence of my friends and family during times of trial. My cousin Sarah rides her bike to meet me, bringing her French bulldog in her backpack. His ears flap and his tongue wags.

Oakley has been my favourite furry companion since the day he rested his head on my knee when I told Sarah I wanted cuddles. I have seen him run with a limp in a race and cheered him on even though he ran in the wrong direction.

Sitting on a picnic blanket with Oakley and my cousin Sarah, “I know that I am loved.”

A wagging tail greets everyone Oakley meets. He is not afraid to show up in his brokenness, with scoliosis and one eye. I think that is what makes him so dear to me.

When I am experiencing the symptoms of bipolar disorder, I remember that it is not my fault. The illness comes and goes in seasons of stress.

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,” said Julian of Norwich, who lived in isolation and survived a pandemic.

She experienced suffering and through it all wrote words of wisdom and hope. Her writing inspires me to continue my own work, to take the time for my craft amid all the suffering and uncertainty around me.

In the presence of my cousin, sitting on a picnic blanket with Oakley and me or in my living room, I know that I am loved.

Our greatest contribution to the world is the attention, encouragement, and love that we give to each other. We can give these things every day. And these gifts don’t cost us any money.

Ecclesiastes famously said, “For everything there is a season, and a time to every matter under the heaven.” There is a time for solitude and a time to be together.

I recently bought my cousin the children’s book Can I Sit with You? by Sarah Jacoby. It is a story about a little dog who wants to be with his owner, a growing girl, in all the happy and sad moments of her life.

Companionship is a gift, to be received and given too.

I don’t walk alone in this life. No one does. It is in difficult times like these that community matters. The presence of another makes a difference. It can save a life.

Who will you sit with today?

Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience , is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.

The light filtering through the trees warms my soul. #gardens #treesofinstagram #movementismedicine💊 #springday

Spring is a season where my heart stretches and sighs. I thank God for each sunrise.

Dogwood blossoms on a sunny day make my tiredness seem far away.

I love finding these Lenten roses in neighbourhood gardens and parks on my mindful walks. #mentalhealthmatters #movementismedicine💊 #bipolarcatholic #lent #prayingwhilewalking

“Life is your art. An open, aware heart is your camera. A oneness with your world is your film. Your bright eyes and easy smile is your museum.” Ansel Adam, photographer and environmentalist

How we find inspiration for our creative process

God has been carrying me my whole life. I know this because he’s given me the strength to fight mental illness, fears, and pain. When my hope shattered during times of mania and psychosis, I felt his presence. I am so grateful that I wrote a book about it. Here’s to finding your own unique path to healing! To find your copy of my mental health journey go to the link in my bio. #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthmatters #bipolarcatholic #bipolarawareness #worldmentalhealthday

My workplace bought copies of my book. 🥳 In one of the chapters, I write about the strong community I have with my colleagues. Check out the link in my bio to get your copy. #authorlife #authorsofinstagram #mentalhealthmatters #mentalhealthawareness #cisva2

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Finding health by walking in the garden with God

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on March 23, 2021

Our story is also about walking in the garden with God.

Tall bamboo stalks swayed and filtered the light through the trees as I walked through a path in VanDusen Botanical Garden on the weekend. A sanctuary of trees: red cedars, paperbark maples, all of them reaching to the heavens.

Lately, I have been visiting the gardens’ winding paths to look for new growth. Lenten roses, with the scientific name Helleborus orientalis, are covering a part of the garden in many varieties. I captured photos of floating blooms in a bowl of water on one of my frequent visits. It brings me joy to find such natural beauty, a real vision of God’s creativity.

Walking has become one of my favourite self-care tools in my mental health recovery kit. On lunch breaks I go for short walks in the area around my office. I am lucky to be close to many parks and gardens. I’ve learned that when I move it improves my mood.

On one of my lunch hours in the garden, a Canada goose came up from behind me and honked. Luckily, I had just about finished eating my fettuccine. I packed up and moved out of his way. He may have been hungry, and I had nothing to give him. Listening to the birds calling from the trees around me, I smiled. God cares for us more than a goose, or a sparrow. And he takes care of us all.

I marvel that I can walk, run, and dance. It’s such an exhilarating feeling to move in my body. God designed my body to be an image of him. It’s amazing to see how beautiful God is in the diversity of my own family.

While walking I find a renewed sense of clarity, creative ideas start to flow, and my muscles begin to stretch after sitting for long hours. When I walk with my sister or a friend, the conversation flows with our breath. It is calming and refreshing to be outside as the season is changing.

I love watching the light lengthen in the evenings. Sunsets brightly filling the sky with colours I want to imitate on canvas.

Being outdoors surrounded by nature, I imagine what it would have been like for Adam and Eve to walk with God in the Garden. Our story is also about walking in the garden with God.

Do we leave space for him to be with us?

Do we invite him into our hearts?

Do we ask him to light our path?

While walking I find a renewed sense of clarity, creative ideas start to flow, and my muscles begin to stretch after sitting for long hours.

Often, I picture myself walking in a garden with Jesus. His sandals are tossed aside, and his bare feet lead the way through a vineyard. Jesus reaches out to pick a grape, checking its ripeness. I follow beside him watching his every move.

We pass a cluster of trees, and I point out to Jesus that it’s a great spot for a picnic. He smiles at me. And I promise to spend more time with him.

During Lent, I reflect on how Jesus desired his disciples to keep watch and pray with him in the Garden of Olives. He was exhausted and needed support emotionally and spiritually from the closest friends he had. Contemplating his passion, I am so grateful for his suffering, dying, and rising.

I want to be close to the Lord to know his plans for me. Praying helps me to feel closer to him even if I can’t hear his audible voice. I know he can hear me.

When stress seeps into my thoughts, I look for words of truth and hope in Scripture. As a writer, I find words hold great significance. And reading holy Scripture is a like a soothing balm on my heart, as comforting as walking with a friend.

As one of the Proverbs says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths” (3:5-6).

I’ve often heard that action leads to finding your purpose. I’m lacing up my shoes and hoping that with each next step I take, I walk in God’s way for me.

Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience, is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.

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‘Riches are in relationships’

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on February 21, 2021 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/riches-are-in-relationships

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Margaretha called me every day for the next few days after I told her I wasn’t feeling well.

Her concern felt like a grandma’s would. My grandparents have passed away years ago. I only knew a couple of them. My grandpa on my Dad’s side was sick in a hospital when I was a little girl. I have memories of holding his soft, wrinkled hands as the nurses fed him. I don’t remember his funeral; I was so young. “Mimi” is what we called my grandma on my mom’s side. She lived with us for my whole childhood and teen years.

There is something so special about the love of grandparents. I miss them. And I wish I knew them all.

My 90-year-old neighbour Margaretha was happy to hear from me when I called her on my lunch break.

“Good thing it was nothing serious. Yeah, I worry.”

We chatted about her trip to Canadian Tire with her son. She bought bulbs to plant in her garden, a new variety that grows tall like hollyhocks.

“My wood-burning stove isn’t working anymore. Something is wrong with the pipe.”

“Are you going to fix it?”

“No, John says we could get a gas fireplace.”

One time pre-COVID I visited her house with my sister. We brought over our ukuleles. She welcomed us in with tea and cookies. The whole room smelled of wood smoke and roasting onions. We had to have a shower to rinse out the strong smell afterwards. It was such a nice visit, so it was worth it.

Having an elderly neighbour care about you is like having a grandparent giving you a hug. We always talk about the weather because if it’s raining it means she can’t go out in her garden, arthritic knees and all. She grew up working on a farm in Germany, so she is tireless. Margaretha always tends to the garden that surrounds her home even when she is in pain.

I am grateful for her reliable phone calls checking in to see how I am doing in the pandemic. Talking to her makes me want to trust the Lord more. He always sends me love in the way I need. Loving God and loving my neighbour are what I strive to do.

He can provide for me when I am feeling depressed or overwhelmed. Sometimes I need to wail and cry in his presence. To know that he is present in this pain, worry, and fear. If I take time for silent prayer, reading Scripture, and a good spiritual book, I am found by God. His peace warms my heart. I am his family. I bask in the joy of knowing I am his beloved daughter.

When I am full of God, I can reach out to my loved ones and be present to their needs. “Riches are in relationships, not possessions,” says Jane Trufant Harvey in Ask Him, Simple Words to Jumpstart Your Conversation with God.

My phone rang on the weekend and I couldn’t pick it up in time.

“Hello, Lisa, it’s Margaretha. How are you? I miss you. Come over.” I am sad during this difficult time when we can’t visit in people’s houses. It’s hard to accept that I can’t visit Margaretha in person at the moment. I do what I can and call her instead.

Our divine call to holiness is through the life of a family. Ordinary phone calls, visits, and conversations bring supernatural love to our relationships. As Margaretha nurtures the plants in her garden, I am going to set down strong roots to rise and grow in love. Will we seek Jesus? Will we be creative in how we can connect with our friends and family during the COVID restrictions?

I entrust the Lord with my life. I can’t do anything on my own strength. I am a child in his arms. He is taking care of me as he is taking care of you. We are to share our struggles and help each other.

As Thomas Merton says, “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find in with another. We do not discover the secret of our lives merely by study and calculation in our isolated meditations. The meaning of our life is a secret that has to be revealed to us in love.”

Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience , is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.

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Home is where God is

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on March 4, 2020

A home restores. It is something we are all made for. Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

How can a place you’ve never been to before feel like home? On a cold day in February, my friend and I travelled to Phoenix, Ariz., for a retreat. Neither of us expected to feel like we had come home.

Lifting our heavy backpacks out of the cab from the airport, we laughed and smiled, admiring the variety of cacti growing in the neighbourhood.

We would be staying at the home of a relative of a colleague of ours from the Archdiocese of Vancouver. The sun was shining, and we no longer needed our coats and scarves. When we left Vancouver at 4 a.m., the temperature was below zero. Here in Arizona, doves cooed from surrounding trees. Palm trees dotted the yards and swayed in the distance.

We stood at the front door, where a large statue of Mother Mary was the first to greet us. I knocked and the door immediately opened. A beautiful blonde woman smiled and opened her arms. “You must be Maggie!” I said. As soon as I passed the threshold, her arms wrapped me in a big hug.

Her home beautifully combined order and cheerfulness. “Can I get you something to drink? We have beer, pop, and seltzer water. Feel free to help yourself to anything. Make this place yours.”

We settled our things into her teenage daughter’s bedroom and lounged on their large grey couch. Excitedly, we told her about the retreat that would start the next day. Then she left to take her son to his older brothers’ baseball games. She promised to take us out for margaritas and Mexican food when she and her husband returned home.

I’d come to Phoenix with a worn-out heart, mind, and body. My heart was heavy, my mind was exhausted, and my lower back ached. It was no coincidence that the theme of the retreat was Restore. It was organized by Blessed Is She, a ministry for women with a mission for community and prayer.

When Maggie came back with her son from the baseball games, her younger sister Stella popped by with her 2-week-old baby. Seeing the precious baby cradled in my travelling companion’s arms made my heart swell. It was easy to notice how close-knit this family is. They live on the same block and visit each other frequently.

“If anyone loves me, he will keep my word and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (Jn 14:23).

It rained hard on Saturday morning. It didn’t rob us of our joy for the day. Stella’s husband’s brother waited outside to drive us to St. Andrew the Apostle Parish for the retreat. He is an Uber driver, and our colleague’s mother paid for our trip. We were overcome with gratitude at the generosity of this family.

My heart was under renovation. Negative thoughts had been spinning me into low moods. “I am not good enough. I am unlovable. I am alone.” During times of worship and adoration, I heard words like a whisper fill me. “I will never leave you alone. I wanted you in your mother’s womb. No pain, no loss is wasted. Do not be afraid. You are my delight. Find peace in me. I love you, my beloved daughter. There will always be days of rain, but I am always shining brighter than the sun. I will provide for you.”

The home we stayed in for three nights was a refuge. The love Maggie showed for her family, her community, and her vocation of motherhood confirmed for me the boundless love of God.

A home restores. It is something we are all made for. We desire to belong and to be missed when we go away.

Author Annie F. Downs says in her book 100 Days to Brave, “Do whatever it takes to expand your map. Because if you go where you’ve never gone before, you will see God like you’ve never seen him before.”

God makes a home in our hearts. Our ultimate destination and eternal home is heaven. We long to return to the heart of the Father. And now I also long to return to Arizona.

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Sometimes healing comes in nature, friends

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on June 4, 2019 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/sometimes-healing-comes-in-nature-friends

Not only did our interest in magnolias hold this unlikely friendship together, but so did our ache for family, health, and happiness.

Scents from white flowering bushes were my first encounter of her incredible gardening skills.

I have walked by her garden countless times since I moved to a quiet neighbourhood in Vancouver. A tall chestnut tree stands guard in the middle of it. Bark mulch covers the ground where plants look wild and less manicured.

Her smile welcomed conversation as she raked leaves. Curly grey hair and a German accent complement her 89 years. Many weeks after meeting, I listened to stories of her trip alone on a ship to Canada from Germany, and her long working days on the family farm.

We found a shared interest in classical music; in the beauty of flowers and the simple pleasure of fresh garden vegetables. Not only did our interest in magnolias hold this unlikely friendship together, but so did our ache for family, health, and happiness.

After a run along the seawall one day I passed by her house. There sweeping the sidewalk was my dear neighbour. Arthritis and sore knees don’t stop her from spending time in her garden. Strength still flows through her aging body.

Inviting me to sit on her front steps, we enjoyed each other’s company; the sunset and purple rhododendrons that were starting to bloom; squirrels scampering; trees coated in gold.

Our laughter filled the air. My delight in her tender care of the plants connected us to the goodness of nature, new every season. From the steps at her red door, I looked up. A canopy of spring green leaves, and a soft spray of chestnut flowers filled the sky.

Healing can come in surprising ways. The peaceful presence of a neighbour. Time to chat. Watching her pick beets from the dirt in her garden for my dinner. It comes with listening to her own story of overcoming challenges; of rough life yet resilient soul.

Her endearing character shines through her garden and her smiling eyes. Carefree timelessness restores the soul. Being too busy all the time takes a toll on my mental health. I relish moments with Margaret, which slows me down and fills my heart with love.

After only a few years of knowing her, there is a feeling of home when I walk by her garden and see her smile. Knowing I belong to God my heavenly Father, I also feel secure. His love is like a patient gardener. He tends to the thorns and weeds found in times of depression, pruning and clipping.

When life spins out of control, he finds a way to root me in hope so I flourish again. Never a day goes by without some work. My mental health withers without care. More and more I am learning to lean on God. To surrender. To trust him in everything.

I still falter. It is an unfinished work. I like to think that I am his beloved wildflower. Storms will come; winds and rain; and bugs. But he will not leave me in darkness. He loves me and will bring me to the light.

In the book of Sirach, it says, “the Lord created medicines from the earth.” (And beautiful flowers in Margaret’s garden.)

“And a sensible man will not despise them … By them he heals and takes away pain; the pharmacist makes them a compound.”

How marvelous that God gives us the means to be well. Skills of physicians, medicines, and loving relationships bring about healing. We can rely on the Lord, “for the sake of preserving life.” Do not give up hope. Hope in the Lord. He is with you always.

It takes a forest to lift a spirit

This article was first published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on April 10th, 2019
https://bccatholic.ca/content/it-takes-a-forest-to-lift-a-spirit

Connecting to the Creator among the trees strengthens my drive for life.

Intertwining branches of tall mossy trees reach out. My heart feels free. I breathe in. The forest is nature’s cathedral. Oxygen rushes in refreshing my lungs and giving me a giddy feeling of lightness.

On a hike with a few friends, our pace is quick, strides matching as we climb around rocks and over roots. Moments of silence. Bird calls. Wind swishing evergreen branches. The clomp of hiking boots on packed earth. This is our music. A calm rushes over my body. Hiking grounds me and connects me to our Creator.

Respite and recovery liberate my mind and spirit. Walking through a canopy of trees was what I needed. Stopping for almond snacks, chocolate bark, and cool sips of water; I am energized to continue on. Almost at the falls. Our conversation and laughter fill the air around us.

“Careful!” my friend points to a poisonous plant at the path’s edge. I study its light green leaves and step away from it. Falling pine needles hit my hat. Mossy stones, old man’s beard, crackly bark.

In Peter Wohlleben’s book, The Hidden Life of Trees, he explains that a forest is a community. The trees “exchanges nutrients” to help “neighbours in times of need.”

And “a tree is not a forest. On its own, a tree cannot establish a consistent local climate. It is at the mercy of wind and weather.”

Many trees together create a “protected environment,” and “trees can live to be very old.”

Just as in nature I thrive in community. I can count on support and encouragement in the never-ending roller coaster of a mood disorder. Like the mother trees shading the young saplings to not grow too fast, my mother nurtured my growth as a child. And was there when I needed help the most. In a moment of despair when I had lost all hope, she intervened in my disturbed state. With her tireless care, I received the best aid. Medicine, therapy, prayer, and love. In times of recovery, walking in nature gives me the opportunity to wonder.

Fungi are dotting the ground. Fiddleheads on ferns. The sound of water rushing over rocks. We are close. Steep incline. Quick short breaths. Reaching for the last step to view Norvan Falls.

The two-hour hike was worth the view. Where would I be without the help of my family and friends? Isolated. Sad. Hopeless. More like a desert than a forest.

A deep breath in and I smile at my fellow hikers: friends, sisters. We made it. Time for lunch. No matter what, we all need someone to help us in difficult times. Everyone needs a team to encourage, motivate, and speak truth into our hearts.

Jesus, the good shepherd knows how much we need peace. “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.”

Hiking gives me the ability to rest in interior and exterior peace. To be open to growing in friendship and love. To find joy in being in another’s presence and to stay healthy physically and mentally.

Connecting to the Creator among the trees strengthens my drive for life. “Even though I walk through the valley of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”