Waking With the Chickens (#SmallWonder Link-up)

  (The morning view from the porch at God's Whisper Farm)

Remember a few weeks back when I wrote about Cutting Loose at a friend's farm while enjoying a weekend long writing retreat?  This week I'm honored to host the farm's owner, author and editor, Andi Cumbo-Floyd.  Andi writes and lives from her heart and I hope you'll listen close to her words to get a sense of the love and presence they emanate.  Then, scroll down and visit the link to check out her new e-book, Writing Day-In and Day-Out: Living a Practice of Words.   

*   *   *

It’s not light. But it is lighter than it was a few minutes ago when it was actually dark. Now, the sky is indigo and graying at the edges, waking into aging, perhaps.

I am still in my pajamas, the interior seams almost gone but still adequate enough to cover me for my walk to the chicken coop. The road is an 1/8 of a mile away, and the glimpse of the farmstead is slim, even if an early-rolling trucker comes by. My feet slide easily into my morning-cooled rubber shoes, and I walk the trail across the grass, knowing that when I return it will look like two wheels rolled the path.

I begin at the front of the wagon shed and slide back the bolt that does nothing but hold the door shut. Inside, I can just make out Lemon’s fluff beside the window screen. I stretch my arm long and slip the hook out of her eye. “Good morning, babies.”  I pour feed into the lime-green trench of holes and step out.

Behind the babies, I can hear him. He’s already crowed once in that sound that used to startle and delight me. The true cock-a-doodle-do of children’s books.  Now, I hear him rustling, his horny feet grasping the post on which he sleeps, sort of, still.

With him, his girls are sleeping, too, and I can hear the quite cuckle of their dreams. A coo. A tiny cluck. A mewl even.  I’m fairly certain I have never heard a sound so peaceful.

Then Xander lets fly his crow again, and I move a bit more quickly, eager to get the big birds food out before he wakes fully.  I toss Oyster shell into the scoop and then layer feed. I slide open another bolt, this one to the run and step in, swing the feed into the red trays below. 

Gently, I slide open the third bolt of my morning and swing the door to the back coop open before moving backwards as fast as I can, the feed scoop arcing in front of me as a ward against flying rooster spurs.

But then, I hear him crow again, from far back in the coop. He sings, and then, soft as a whisper, I hear the rasp of a sigh come from him. “Sleepy rooster,” I say. 

I slide that one bolt back into place on the run and stand outside, waiting. First, comes Fern, her head full of feathers like an awkward crown. Then, Xander steps forth, breast high, shoulders back. He fluffs up and struts, and he lets loose. Bold, brazen, moving toward me without fear.

Then, I hear that sigh of sleepiness ease from his mouth. “Good boy, Xander. Good boy.”

Maybe we are all at our best when we step into the day new, a little sleepy in the graying dawn.

Andi Cumbo-Floyd is a writer, editor, and writing coach who farms at the edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains with her husband, 4 dogs, 4 cats, 6 goats, and 26 chickens. Her latest book is Writing Day In and Day Out: Living a Practice of Words and is available on Kobo and Amazon.  You can find out more about her work at her website, andilit.com

*   *   *

Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.

What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God? 

That's my proposal - that we gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days.  

You're invited to link-up a brief post about a small moment of wonder.  Don't worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right - you're welcome to come as you are.  

While you're here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment.  

Exploring Faith (SmallWonder Link-Up)

This week I'm grateful to share a guest post by Dolly Lee.  Her writing always brings a gentle, clear perspective and an invitation to rest in God's love.  Dolly just finished her first e-book, A Soul Care Manifesto, which you can receive for free by subscribing to her blog.  Visit her website, Soul Stops, to find out more.

*   *   *   *

Welcome to the first post of my series exploring Faith.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I walked and talked after dinner. Tension accompanied us with each step as we fumbled with words; it was as if we each spoke in a foreign language.

Faith here looked like inviting God into our conflict and seeking in love to listen to each other share his/her heart.

We didn't know how our disagreement would resolve.

Faith meant we obeyed God by not stewing in anger. Instead we shared our feelings with grace (for the most part...keeping it real). (Trying to practice those "I feel..." statements vs. "You are...")
We listened to each other (imperfectly but we persevered) so bitterness couldn't take root in our hearts.

Afterwards, we agreed we'd fought a battle for our marriage of almost 24 years and won...for now.

If you've figured out your "faith walk" perfectly, read no further.

But if you take two steps forward and one step back, on a good day, please join me.

Faith in God seeks to follow God's way even when the outcome is unknown.

In an earlier post, I invited you to explore a question with me: How can I remember God's bigger story of redemption and restoration in the midst of my smaller story?

Some of our smaller stories include marriage with or without children, some are single or divorced, others are retired, and others battle chronic health issues.

Some of us work outside the home, some within, and some do both.
Whatever our story, we can learn about faith from Abraham's life.

We're introduced to Abraham's smaller story when God invites him to join God's larger story of redemption (Gen. 12:1-4).

"By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called out...And he went out, not knowing where he was going."- Heb. 11:8 ESV

Photo used with permission of Flickr User: Nana B Agyei

Sometimes faith asks us to leave the known and travel to an unknown place.

Faith and obedience to God's call intertwine like a braid. God can speak through feelings but sometimes I let them boss me instead of letting faith in God lead.

Faith obeys God's call into the unknown because faith trusts God knows.

I wonder if Abraham felt scared as he left, at age 75 (!), his home, country, and everything he knew to go to an unknown land God promised to give him (Gen. 12:1-4). I wonder if he ever missed his home or a favorite vista.

By faith, Abraham wove his smaller story into God's bigger story.

Sometimes the unknown that God calls us to is a new way of thinking, believing, and/or living and relating to someone, including ourselves.

Some of us may have grown up in families where we learned unhealthy ways of relating (e.g., screaming; hitting; unfaithfulness; stuffing feelings/issues). For some of us the unknown is to learn new emotionally and spiritually healthy ways to relate to our friends and family.

Some of us need to leave the land of self-condemnation and hatred and learn to walk in God's unconditional love for us.

In his book Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Pastor Peter Scazzero learned a painful but valuable lesson: he couldn't grow spiritually without also growing emotionally. Peter had to change how he treated his wife and his family.

He didn't learn it easily or quickly and I appreciate his wisdom.
Faith always moves at God's invitation to move. But faith stays when Gods says, "stay."

I take comfort knowing Abraham's faith wasn't perfect; he doubted God's promise after waiting for 12 long years and decided to "help" God. It didn't end well. And I can relate.

Our faith is imperfect but God is always perfectly faithful to keep His promises.

Faith trusts God enough to obey and move into mystery.

What does faith in God look like for you today?

Where is God inviting you to move, whether literally, or in how you view someone or something?

How have you seen God's faithfulness in your life?

Thanks for being here.

In my next post, we'll continue to explore more of Abraham's story and what we can learn about faith.

Read more of Abraham and Sarah's story at Hebrews 11:8-16.

Try reading the passage aloud several times to see how different words or ideas stand out for you.

If you like to journal or create art, see what comes up for you as you read Hebrews 11:8-16.

*   *   *

Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.

What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God? 

That's my proposal - that we gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days.  

You're invited to link-up a brief post about a small moment of wonder.  Don't worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right - you're welcome to come as you are.  

While you're here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment.  

Love's Frayed Tether (#SmallWonder Link-Up)

This week it's my great joy to welcome a guest post by fellow #SmallWonder host Amber Cadenas.  Amber blogs regularly at Beautiful Rubbish: everyday art of learning to see.  In her own words, Amber "writes with the hope that others might be inspired to see their own lives through different eyes."  I want to encourage you to take a little time to poke around her blog and get lost in the stories there - stories as deep and painful as they are beautiful.   

*   *   * 

When I cannot bear to sit a moment longer 

alone in our quiet home and the din 

of disquiet within me

I find him -

resting upright in the dark of our spare room

and on the futon beckon him to lay down

and stretch my body the length of him

tucked in snug as a ship at dock

one arm latched securely around his chest

my head resting a top 

the space where his heart pumps

Slowly, slowly I open

floating in the tide of his heat

my cheek rolling and rocking

with the pulsing life beneath 

his skin

and I surrender

to the deep of sleep in this rhythmic lull

of wonder

What I have not been able to see 

or hear

or taste

or feel

in these sensory-over-loaded-and-numbed-out 

day to days of late

breaks through the veil to once again proclaim

life

Right here 

right now

Wonder and I become one

as the moment rocks and breathes

pauses and turns

anchored in love's frayed tether.

*   *   *   *

Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.

What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God? 

That's my proposal - that we gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days. 

You're invited to link-up a brief post of about five hundred words or less about a small moment of wonder.  Don't worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right - you're welcome to come as you are.  

While you're here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment.    

God Was Everywhere (#SmallWonder Link-up)

Today I'm happy to share a guest post from Ed Cyzewski.  After reading a copy of his newest book, "Pray, Write, Grow: Cultivating Prayer and Writing Together, I knew he would have something good to share with our community.  Ed practices a type of prayer called the Examen which focuses on awareness and daily reflection concerning the movement of God's spirit in our lives.  Today Ed shares about how his son helped him become more aware of the presence of God.  

When I started praying the Examen, I struggled to answer the question that prompted me to identify a point when I felt God’s presence. Some days I sensed God’s presence, but on other days prayer felt like merely reciting words and waiting in silence. I didn’t have anything in particular I could nail down as a moment when God felt particularly present.

That started to change when I prayed with my young son one evening. After my wife and I read books with him, we started taking turns to pray with him before saying goodnight. Turning the lights off, I usually kneel down next to his bed where he’s tucked in and eager to share everything he’s thankful for. We usually begin with saying thank you for things like his friends, family, church, and the local children’s science museum. He’s also thanked God for “daddy’s shirt,” “people watching hockey,” and “mama holding brother.” After he’s exhausted every possible thing and person he could thank God for, I pray for him.

The prayers are always short because he’s a toddler with a limited attention span, but the first time we prayed together, I sensed an immediate connection with God. It was as if God wanted to love my son through me. Recognizing God's love for my son opened me to a greater sense of God’s parental love. The simple ritual of praying with my son eventually opened my eyes to a deeper sense of God’s love for me and my love for my son.

I started noticing that prayer wasn’t just a matter of saying thank you or issuing requests, even if it could be those things. Prayer gets us on the same page with God. It shifts our perspectives. I saw how God loves me and loves my son. My eyes were opened to the possibility that God could be found in other moments too. In fact, many of the moments I’ve spent with my children since that epiphany while praying have led to particularly powerful experiences of God’s presence when I least expected it. 

Responding to my children with mercy or compassion became a kind of prayer in and of itself.

As I prayed through each of the questions in my Examen each evening, I started to recognize God’s presence in the moments when I loved my children. For all of the times I’d sat down with prayer books or tried to quiet my mind to meditate on scripture, God felt most present while I spent time with my kids, whether praying or playing. The more I see God in these relationships with my children, the more I’ve become aware of how easily we can wall God’s presence off from very important areas of our lives.

Today’s post is an excerpt from Ed’s new book: Pray, Write, Grow: Cultivating Prayer and Writing Together which is on sale this Monday and Tuesday for $.99!

Ed Cyzewski is the author of Pray, Write, Grow: Cultivating Prayer and Writing Together, A Christian Survival Guide and Coffeehouse Theology. He blogs about prayer, writing, and imperfectly following Jesus at www.edcyzewski.com and offers two free eBooks to newsletter subscribers.

*   *   *   *

Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.

What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God? 

That's my proposal - that we might gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days. 

You're invited to link-up a brief post of about five hundred words or less about a small moment of wonder.  Don't worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right - you're welcome to come as you are.  

While you're here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment.   

Named and Known (#SmallWonder link-up)

(I'm happy to welcome Jody Lee Collins here today with a #SmallWonder guest post.  Jody is part of the team that helps coordinate and support this community.  She is a writer, poet, Grandmother, and substitute teacher who lives Seattle, Washington.  You can read more of her words at her blog, Three Way Light.  I really love the story she shares today - there's a sweetness to it that keeps it tumbling around in my heart.  Enjoy!)

I silently knock on the Kindergarten door - helper for the day in my Assistant Teacher role.  I love Kindergarten.  I did my student teaching there—sang a LOT of songs, played games, and sat on the floor and learned words.

Today is one of those days—a learning day—except I am the student.

I teach in a very diverse school district.  The population we serve has changed significantly in the past 7 or 8 years. Our students are 85% immigrants—mostly African, primarily from Somalia, Sudan, Eritrea and Ethiopia. Needless to say, school is a challenge for these immigrant children.

Today the teacher asks me to take time with Mamoud and Khalid who are only just learning English. 

Mamoud is silent as he follows, but Khalid’s first words to me as I reach out my hand, are, “Good morning, teacher.”

I am warmed at the thought of appreciative parents who have taught him this important phrase. They know more than anyone the power a good education has and the place of a teacher in that process.

Out in the hallway at a small table, Khalid, Masoud and I look at picture books. One in particular is called ‘Rain’, suitable for our Seattle area day.  I begin with Khalid. He is delighted he knows the word ‘umbrella’ and repeats it every time the picture shows up.

“Umbrrrrellla” he says rolling his ‘r’s. It’s a purple umbrella.

I point to the car in the rain; ‘car’, he says, ‘car.’

I point to the tree in the rain; ‘tree’, he says, ‘trrrrree.’

I point to the flowers in the rain; ‘flowers’, he says ‘flowers.’

But the second time around he is mixed up and says ‘tree’ for ‘flower’ and ‘car’ for ‘tree’ and ‘flower’ for ‘frog’. There’s really no connection between these pictures and my words.

We are both a little frustrated and the boys are yawning and squirmy.

I remember Maria Montessori’s cornerstone words about meaningful work. Changing my strategy, we venture into the classroom. I point to a spot on the floor near the cubbies and the boys sit quietly. 

I know they can tell me their names and probably can spell them.

Names have meaning, especially to the owner.

I grab 3 whiteboards, markers and erasers and join them on the floor, asking them to each write their name.  Masoud is successful and proceeds to add a treasure map to his picture. Correct letters in the correct order, even a capital-ish looking capital ‘M’.

Khalid is stuck.  There is a capital ‘K’, an ‘a’, no ‘h’ at all, an ‘i’ but no ‘d’.  There are also several o’s and m’s.  I assume he’s a little mixed up and hand over hand, help him write his name correctly.

He tries it alone; still ‘K, no 'h', no 'a', an ‘l’, but no 'd', many ‘o’s and an ‘m.’ He is adamant about there being an ‘o’ and an ‘m’—not with words but by the way he furiously erases or pushes my hand away when I try to correct.

He of course isn’t conversing with me; he doesn't know how to communicate what he wants but his actions are speaking volumes.

  

Aha—Well, I’ll step over to his desk and read his name tag (yes, I was learning, too.)  Around the corner from the bookcase at the round table, there it is, “Khalid Omar.”

Oy. For Heaven’s sake—no wonder we got ‘o’s and ‘m’s.

I return to my spot between the boys on the floor and write Khalid’s first and last name out for him to copy.

The frustration vanishes, his eyes sparkle and he calmly and clearly announces in perfect English, “Thank you!” As in, 'what took you so long? you finally got it! THAT'S who I am!'

It was a simple, small moment to remind how powerful it is and how deeply touched we are when we are named--named and known.

And how life-changing it can be when we are known by our Father God most of all. 

Did I tell you I love Kindergarten?

*   *   *   *

Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.

What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God? 

That's my proposal - that we might gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days. 

You're invited to link-up a brief post of about five hundred words or less about a small moment of wonder.  Don't worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right - you're welcome to come as you are.  

While you're here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment. 

When Speaking Life Requires Silence

I met Kimberly Ann Coyle though an online (in) courage discussion group for writers.  She and a host of other writers are in the long haul of blogging for 31 days straight through the month of October.  Every blogger chooses a topic of focus and digs in.  This year, Kimberly is writing on the topic of Speaking Life. 

I've grown to appreciate Kimberly's writing for its honesty and humor.  Although painfully honest writing is en vogue right now, Kimberly's writing draws me because her honesty is not merely for the thrill of self-revelation; within, beneath and behind her honesty I get the sense of a heart that is drawn toward and always seeking the more.  This is what keeps me coming back to her posts.  I was grateful when Kimberly asked me to help fill some space in her 31 day journey by writing about the practice of Speaking Life from the perspective of Spiritual Direction.  You can start reading the post here and then pop over to Kimberly's blog to read the rest.  To learn more about the ministry of spiritual companioning, click on the Spiritual Direction tab at the top of this page. 
 

 * * *

After a few simple pleasantries, the offering of a cup of hot tea or cool water, we begin, almost always, with silence. Sitting in chairs not quite facing each other, we sit quietly waiting, shedding the many moments, worries and demands of the day until a space opens within and around us and we are together at home in ourselves, in the moment, in God.

Then the sharing begins and I listen and work hard to continue to hold open the space between words, between questions and answers, to hold open the silence that surrounds. This is quiet work, gentle and slow, drawing out the many questions that lead, most often, to a deeper place of longing and need. When, at last, that place is reached and the question of one’s heart’s desire rises, I have a choice – what now?

Too often the temptation arises in me to play the expert, advice-giver, wise counsel, or to speak conspiratorially of my own similar experiences, in order to draw an allegiance between the directee and myself. Often there’s pressure (spoken or unspoken) to do just that – the directee arrives in need, wanting answers and too often I’m tempted to give them.

But here’s the truth . . . 

Won't you follow me over to  Kimberly Ann Coyle's place. to continue reading?  And, while you're there, check out some other other posts in her 31 days series and, if you have a moment, leave me a little comment love (it's awfully quiet over there!) . . .