SOUL MAIL Saturday: Find the Place You Can Cross Together
Welcome friends! Today is July 4th, 2026 and our SOUL MAIL message is: Find the Place You Can Cross Together. I'm making this a SOUL MAIL Saturday because I want to get this message out to you before Sunday morning when we will be creating our Freedom Flags at the Fall Creek Art Table. Both the Art Table project and today's SOUL MAIL message are centered around the question: What does freedom mean to you?
This year I found myself looking less toward the loud fireworks in the sky and more toward the quiet fireworks of the African Blood Lily blooming on my porch. One lasted only moments. The other carried years of memory, healing, ancestry, and hope. I'm pausing to remember the anniversary of my father's Heaven Day tomorrow. Keeping the African Blood Lily thriving keeps my husband's memory alive as his Heaven Day approaches at the end of the month. They were two of the most important people in my life.
The African Blood Lily spent months gathering strength beneath the surface before suddenly bursting into brilliant color. Its bloom carried years of memory: my husband, our family's African American heritage, ancestors whose perseverance made our lives possible, and the hope that healing and freedom continue to unfold in every generation.
Our grandsons will come to our Art Table tomorrow with other children and their families from the community and together we will create Freedom Flags. Freedom does not begin when a flower opens. It begins long before—in the hidden work of roots, bulbs, families, and ancestors who endure seasons we may never fully understand.
In a way the Blood Lily and the Freedom Flags have become living bridges between generations, neighbors, and friends at a distance. One of the girls who loves coming to the Art Table had to move to the East Coast when her family relocated for work. Her mom asked if I could share information about the Freedom Flags because her daughter wanted to join the project remotely, so I sent her details, pictures and directions. Freedom can reach us across the planet.
For me freedom is being able to be my true self and pursue my loving vision, dreams and joys without harming anyone, including myself. Freedom is a gift everyone deserves. Yet freedom also asks something of us. It asks us to protect it, to care for one another, and to care for the planet that sustains us. As humans, we fall short. It is something we have in common. We are all givers and receivers of harm sometimes. We may not intend to do harm, but we sometimes do.
There have been times when I failed to understand what something needed to flourish. When I didn't learn enough about caring for my plants, they struggled because their environment no longer supported them. When I wasn't able to stand up strongly enough for my children during times of bullying, they were hurt. Those experiences taught me that love is not only a feeling—it also asks us to learn, to pay attention, and sometimes to act courageously.
Yet the other thing we all share is the choice to give ourselves and others grace, forgiveness, and the opportunity to make amends. Even after its fall, the Blood Lily held that injury quietly within itself until loving care allowed it to bloom again. Similarly, we can release our trauma and come together to find common ground, healing our relationships through compassion, forgiveness, and taking action to make amends. Perhaps the Blood Lily is teaching me that healing begins wherever we choose to nurture life—in ourselves, in our relationships, and in the world around us.
This morning the Blood Lily spoke once again. This week I celebrated its brilliant bloom. Today I noticed its quiet transition. Some blossoms are fading while others are giving way to new seeds. While the blossoms release their beauty, the leaf grows stronger. Nothing feels lost. Everything is becoming.
It reminded me of sitting beside my husband's hospice bed during the last week of his life. His words gradually became quiet. His eyes remained closed much of the time. Then, at the very end, he opened his eyes and looked into mine. The only words that came to me were, "It's okay, Honey." Love sometimes means giving one another permission to continue the journey we cannot yet see.
Perhaps that is another freedom we are invited to learn—the freedom to trust that love is larger than endings, and that every faithful transition carries within it the seeds of new life.
Today's SOUL MAIL was created 11/4/2008 in response to my question: What is your vision of change for our family and the world? May it speak to you about how we can build bridges in our togetherness as a bigger human family.
May we remember that life is a precious gift, and that one of our greatest freedoms is the opportunity to build a more perfect union—with one another, with the Earth, and with the generations yet to come.
