Muddy water morning
June 28, 2015 § Leave a comment
Summer is so much intensity. Heat, people, pouring sunshine, gardens demanding water and weeding, animals thirsty and shade-seeking.
There is great fun in summer – brightness, discovery, and a raucous kind of play, play, play outside! But it also comes with a push that, for some of us, needs to be ducked away from now and again.
Sunday mornings become the place to find cool and quiet.
This one was a slow walk in tall boots, a slight breeze, moss and muddy water at the lake’s edge.
Sometimes you have to look for what you need, to remember your right to it, to find the space and the time somewhere in the week for a place beautiful and damp and cool and still.
Having a jar of coffee in hand doesn’t hurt. A companion happy to splash in the water doesn’t, either.
This Sunday prayer seems to be hanging in the air around me. A Creator’s creation offering what I need: trees bending in the breeze, scattered sun over the water, and the soaking-wet, frolicking gladness of a good dog.
So you carry on
January 1, 2014 § 4 Comments
When your father dies out of the blue, in the darkness of a cold barn during a late-April ice storm – when he is found in the hay meant for the cow and calf, and when no one can say for sure what even happened – then you might curl into what remains of your family and stop reaching out in trust toward the world. (It was a hesitant trust to begin with.)
You might go in secret to the desperate places of grief. You might stop writing the happy stories of life for fear of the ultimate sadness that must come along and scribble itself into them. You might decide to not have feelings at all and give it a real go (you might fail). You might ask a million questions to and of and about God, and when that does nothing you might stop talking to Him completely — unless someone else can offer you their words to use instead. You might turn to liturgies and the prayers of saints and hope that’s enough.
Sometimes you might be so angry you are seconds away from throwing a tantrum, full-fledged arms and legs kicking, like any competent two-year-old.
You might create some kind of strong outer self that still acknowledges what is worth being grateful for, that greets and welcomes people, that manages to laugh out loud and love much of what happens all around. You won’t understand how this outer self goes along with the unsightly mess that is inside, but it doesn’t seem entirely fake, and you decide to go with it because, after all, what is the alternative?
The days keep happening, as they must. Emptier than they should be. More things ache in different ways. But as the months spread themselves out you might, more than once, come across something that makes you pause, that makes your chest swell in that old real wonderful-world way, that tricks a smile into place and stirs the idealist you can’t completely tamp down. A meteor shower in the middle of summer, while you lie on a tarp spread over the wet grass. Lively delicious dinners with friends (even if it takes jump-starting two trucks to get there). A jog through the woods and a chat on a footbridge. A plot of purple carrots and children who practically hop up-and-down in the discovery of them. Fires snapping and glowing. A beautiful painting, unexpected. Riding a chestnut horse in the hour before dusk. A hidden swamp for you and the dog and decent muck boots. Babies and giggles and dimples and freckles. Little gifts handmade and hand-selected, surprises that say, gently, you matter to me.
So you carry on. Nothing will be the same, of course. You will have to cling to the memory of the sound of your father’s voice, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, the knowledge that the nose you are not-so-thrilled to have inherited came, actually, from him, along with your long legs and your need to be close to the dirt oftener than not. You will have to imagine rather than see him walking through the pasture with you and when you have a question about livestock or trucks or gardens you will not have his answer, unless you can find it in one of his books. Your family will seem small and split and only heaven will make it completely right again after a very long time. But you can feel the prodding of whatever good has shot through this broken world, the good that wants you to fight for it and be a part of it and hold it and increase it.
And you might reach out.
Joel 2:21-24, 26a
March 15, 2013 § Leave a comment
“Do not fear, O soil; be glad and rejoice, for the Lord has done great things! Do not fear, you animals of the field, for the pastures of the wilderness are green; the tree bears its fruit, the fig tree and vine give their full yield. O children of Zion, be glad and rejoice in the Lord your God; for he has given the early rain for your vindication, he has poured down for you abundant rain, the early and the later rain, as before. The threshing floors shall be full of grain, the vats shall overflow with wine and oil. . . . You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied.”
A passage to ponder while on my knees in the dirt on these cool/warm, sunny/rainy, almost-spring days. Can gardening be a part of bringing heaven down to earth? I have to think yes.
Bookstores
January 30, 2013 § Leave a comment
Dear readers,
At the risk of continuing shameless self-promotion, I’m wondering if any of you have favorite independent bookstores you’d like to tell me about?
I’m trying to get my act together in terms of marketing my book, since I’ve been fairly lackadaisical about it up till now – admittedly, because it makes me feel silly to promote myself. But you know? It’s not about me. It’s about the story, which in many ways isn’t even solely mine. Because the story is the product of so many life experiences that the world generously offered me, so many people I came into contact with, the space to daydream throughout my childhood, and the inspiration and creative nudges of so many other writers and their books.
There are lots more readers our there that I’d like to have access to this story. So I need to get over myself and figure out how to get this book in their hands. Girls who love horses have just gotta read this story.
So. As I explore more venues, what bookstores would you like me to know about? Could you provide me with the name and either the web address or street address so I can send them a reader’s copy? I’d be grateful!
I’m working on an author website right now – another thing I’ve shyly hung back from. I’ve got quite a bit of fine-tuning to do, and I need some fancy pictures of myself (and maybe some horses?), but keep checking back to get the link in a few weeks.
Other than that – what have you been reading lately? I’ve been alternating between Michael Pollan’s Second Nature and Holley Bishop’s Robbing the Bees and Rodale’s Ultimate Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening. It is fun to sit on the couch with three open books and to keep picking them up in intervals.
Not resolutions, so much as habits to cultivate
January 8, 2013 § 2 Comments
These things have been impressing themselves on me in the last few weeks, as I look towards yet another new beginning along with this new year. We are ever in the process of shaping the lives we have been given, and who we might be within them, aren’t we? All of us look for signposts towards what is right, so I wanted to write down some of mine to keep them in front of me. Saying them is not the same as doing them, of course, and I can only try when I remember. Forgive me, friends, while I stumble on through humanity!
be quiet(er).
speak less impulsively; watch your words; listen more closely.
be gracious.
assume the best; forgive readily; be slow to anger. be gentle with self.
be generous.
with time even more than money. with food. with helping hands.
be kind.
to everyone, as often as possible, beyond what is expected.
be frugal.
handmade things are good! avoid senseless expense. save.
be sincere.
act with intention; follow through; hold true to your convictions.
love bravely.
quell bitterness; embrace others; accept the reality of loss, yet open your heart.
Advent 4, Christmas Eve, Christmas, and a New Year!
December 31, 2012 § Leave a comment
Oh my goodness, is anyone else in a holiday daze? (But it is good, isn’t it? Family and candy canes and sparkling snow and games and caramel corn and truffles and favorite old movies and the re-telling of stories.)
I’m sorry that Christmas came up without me appropriately finishing my little spiritual reveries, but here’s a quick catch-up for those of you who care:
The fourth candle of advent is the candle of peace. The Prince of Peace comes that we might know what peace truly is, that our hearts might rest in the assurance of salvation, and that we might go on to extend peace outward. Bless and be blessed.
Romans 5: 1-2a: Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,2 through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.
The Christ Candle is in the center of the wreath, and is lit on Christmas Eve and/or Christmas Day. This is what we have all been waiting for – the light of the world come down.
John 1: 1-14
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life,and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
6 There was a man sent from God whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. 8 He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.
9 The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. 11 He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. 12 Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—13 children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.
14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
And so 2012 wraps up tonight. It has in many ways been a blur, and while much has been learned this has been very much a year of not quite feeling like myself, or at least not the version of myself that I would like to be. And yet perhaps that allows for growth, or the ability to identify areas of needed growth, and noticing the things that matter and the things that are less important, and where compromise is necessary . . . and recognizing how in the midst of what seems it will be nearly constant change in one way or another, there is the need for an anchor. And what will that anchor be? We choose many things to be anchors for ourselves, the things that give us some sense of stability, and some are more solid and sure than others. This year I seem to have been floundering a bit, grasping at ropes attached to all sorts of random anchors and dropping all kinds of compasses from my pockets. But my true anchor is, of course, Christ. And my compass must be His Word. And my traveling companions? Well, Him, of course, the magical and comforting presence of His Holy Spirit. And I hope many of you, my friends, His church. And yes, let there be an assortment of the rest of the world’s characters, that we might bravely search and experience and celebrate this colorful gift of a place, this rollicking gift of life, together.
Here comes 2013.
Ding Dong Merrily on High
December 21, 2012 § Leave a comment
The melody to this piece is from 1589 – did you know that? It began as a dance tune, and was made into a carol much later. Isn’t it marvelous how melodies can be carried on through centuries? One of the great things about carols, particularly, is the way they rise up each season and urge us to sing them. Outside of church or choir, how often do we otherwise make an effort to sing together in our culture? And to think that we can carry history through, and on, by singing the same words as so many others so long ago.
The story this song always makes me think of is Little Women. I have read about Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy cover to cover so many times, as if I might join their world – their little family? – by doing so. I was in 7th or 8th grade when it the film first came out, and my parents took us to see it very near to Christmas. I still remember the excitement of the opening music and the title curling across the screen, and my mother looking down the row at me and grinning. Oh the joy!
“Ding Dong Merrily on High” brings me at once to the scene when the girls are walking all donned in capes and ribbons out in the snow to share their Christmas with a family in need. Family – generosity – food – togetherness. A happy holiday.
Ding Dong Merrily on High
Ding dong! merrily on high
In heav’n the bells are ringing:
Ding dong! verily the sky
Is riv’n with Angel singing.
REFRAIN
Gloria,
Hosanna in excelsis!
Gloria,
Hosanna in excelsis!
E’en so here below, below,
Let steeple bells be swungen,
And “Io, io, io!”
By priest and people sungen.
REFRAIN
Pray you, dutifully prime
Your matin chime, ye ringers;
May you beautifully rime
Your evetime song, ye singers.
REFRAIN
You can listen to the King’s College (Cambridge) boys choir singing this carol, here.
The little ones
December 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
What can anyone say? All the sweet lives lost, the beloved ones. The grief of families, friends, a school, a town. A nation. We watch from afar. We still want to think, “That would never happen here,” but so often that is just where it does happen. The truth is that it should not happen anywhere. And so we will weep together, and reach out in comfort and prayer, and continue looking at how we can make a better world.
Advent 2
December 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
The second candle is the candle of preparation, or the Bethlehem Candle.
(Clearly I am not prepared, as I am one day behind again, and still without an advent wreath. Sigh.)
But more importantly, at least, here is my time for reflection. And so I’m thinking: how do I prepare my heart for a King? I have been planning many events lately, and spending much time making spaces open and warm and inviting. I want to welcome people into a place that was carefully prepared for them. This is too easy an analogy, and I’m almost laughing to myself – I have read so many devotionals, growing up well-churched, and I know where this is going. Still, I’m going to say it. If our hearts/spirits are where the Holy One ultimately dwells, then what sort of place do we want them to be, that He might be welcome there?
And yet. I remember a baby born in a stable. A stable! In a not-very-noteworthy town called Bethlehem. Why of all things should this be a part of the story? Those of you who know me are well aware that I love animals and barns, straw, hay, horses. I like hanging out in these places. But I don’t know that I want to sleep there, at least not outside of an emergency. Even when they are tidy, stables are rough and often dirty and smelly. They are not perfect. So it makes me think: that even as we want to prepare our hearts, we don’t have to have them be perfect and pristine so much as open. We might be a bit rough around the edges, but He will reside anywhere He is welcome. And He will become the light in that space.
Luke 2:1-15
In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to their own town to register.
4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.
8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
I Taught Myself to Live Simply
November 30, 2012 § 5 Comments
I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life’s decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.
-Anna Akhmatova
Kinds of Honey 