Slow Down (an invitation)

(I call this picture "Converse in the Wild")

slow down,
just be

be still
be present

listen to, and dwell in, what is
here, now, this moment

what love?
what fear?
and what possible doorway
between the two?

(grace, always, is the door)

Relish (To Enjoy Greatly)

Relish verb 
1. to enjoy greatly

synonyms: enjoy, delight in, love, adore, take pleasure in, rejoice in, appreciate, savor, revel in, luxuriate in, glory in

The world outside was an old gray dishrag, wet and dripping, on the day I met a writer friend for coffee.  Settling in, we shared our mutual hatred of January, the way it feels like it always has five weeks at least or seven. 

“February is ok,” she said. “By February I at least have hope that March will be nicer.”

This writer is a friend of a friend and has attended several of the local writing events I’ve offered.  Each time we meet, we talk like people who don’t know each other well, but would like to know each other better.  

Near the end of one event, as we stood talking, she said something I've mulled over for months.  She had been asking what I was up to now that all of my kids are in school and when I fumbled for a response she said something like, “I think it takes a good year for a woman to recover after her kids start school.”  That one sentence stuck with me and offered much needed permission as I begin the process of reemergence after years of being fully consumed by a hectic home life.     

Over coffee last week we each talked about our works in progress and writing plans for the future.  She’s just finished revisions on her first novel, is wading into a second, and looking for an agent.  I told her how I’d written a rough draft of a memoir last spring and, in the midst of it, realized I didn’t have any idea what I was doing.  So I stopped working on the memoir and started writing Chicken Scratch: Stories of Love, Risk & Poultry. 

“You know how, if you were going to sew a wedding dress, you would first sew a mock-up of the pattern out of cheaper material, to make sure you understood how to do it?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

“That’s what Chicken Scratch was supposed to be, a chance to try the process,” I explained.

“Well, it worked out well,” she said.

The thing is, writing and publishing Chicken Scratch taught me a lot about publishing, but it didn’t teach my how to write a memoir and that’s where I find myself stuck now.  “I’m not really sure what I’m doing next,” I said.

 “Well, you did a lot - writing and publishing that book in a very short period of time.  Maybe you just need to relish that,” she suggested.  Registering my blank stare, she asked, “Have you done that?”

In my imagination, the word relish hung between us like some gorgeous, ripe fruit swaying on a low-hanging branch.  Relish is a rich word, luxurious like dark chocolate and red wine.  The act of relishing, though, is utterly foreign to me.  The act of relishing sits like caviar on a cracker – I don’t know what to do with it, don’t know if I even want to try.

“No,” I said, “I haven’t.”  Then, I added, “I don’t know how to.  I’m a worker bee, always on to the next thing.”

With that, our conversation shifts again to future plans, but the word 'relish' stays with me for days; sticky, like a trace of honey in my mind.  Looking it up to write about it today, I see that to relish is to love, to delight in, enjoy and rejoice and it occurs to me that, although the word relish may not appear in the Bible, it's synonyms sure do.  

A quick glance at the Psalms, or at Jesus for that matter, reveals that people of God are to be skilled in the art of relishing - biblical writers delight in the Lord, in God's word, in creation.  We are to be people who know how to enjoy the goodness of this earthly life.  Without the ability to relish the good, how will we ever adequately recognize and confront the bad? 

When it comes to "relishing" I have, some work cut out for me, which suits this worker bee just fine.  The invitation now is to look and listen for the doorways of delight, the moments when I can open my hands, my heart, to the goodness of what is and has been done.  And by doing so, I will be buoyed to begin whatever new work the future holds.     

If you liked this post, you may also like Enjoy! Tales of Waitressing, Chaplaincy & Motherhood.

We All Shine Like the Sun (SmallWonder Link-Up)

I returned home from the God's Whisper Writing Retreat in Virginia last Sunday, driving my husband's rattly old pickup truck through four hours of heat and humidity.  The truck lacks AC and I swear it was hotter inside the cab than out.  By the time I hit our driveway I was spent.  I was also greeted by the usual signs of my absence - an empty refrigerator and mountains of laundry.  So I dove back in to home and put off reflecting on the weekend away until now.    

It's always a gift to be among other writers and more and more, three years into this writing life, I find myself thinking, "These are my kind of people."  Friday night 20+ writers gathered in the barn before dinner, mingling awkwardly like sixth graders at a dance.  Dinner helped us shake off our nerves and then, after introductions, we took turns reading at the open Mic.  

Writers, at their heart, long to connect, to be known.  So, one-by-one we stood and read from finished and unfinished pieces, each person revealing a small square of their heart to a roomful of strangers who waited and welcomed with awe.  

Saturday was long, lovely and exhausting in all the best ways, full of connection and reflection.  I re-discovered my fear in Shawn Smucker's workshop and others rediscovered their bodies in Andi's.  Some writers became unstuck, others learned how to write safely about vulnerability.  In the evening we were all captivated by the only woman I know whose reading can compete with a flash-flood. Author, Sharon Morgan, drew us in with stories of life and love in Paris, she reminded us how good storytelling can bridge continents and help us connect like strangers gathered for a moment in time around a shared meal.  

Sunday morning, as many as wanted, started the day with silent meditation.  Then we welcomed a presentation by Jane Friedman on publishing.  I sat in the back because I have "issues" with discussions of publishing - I'm just not there yet and not willing to get myself tangled in knots before I even have a manuscript to submit.  

But, Sunday morning as 20+ writers in every stage of the game sat listening and calmly asking questions I realized the weekend had accomplished exactly what Shawn, Andi and I hoped it would.  The writers in attendance asked good, solid questions in voices that revealed a healthy awareness of their own location in the greater scheme of things.  I didn't hear a whisper of panic, a breath of anxiety.  I heard writers who, through the course of two days of balancing words and silence, were deeply in touch with the truth of their own situation.  

Did most of us have a lot of work to do?  Yes.  

Did current publishing trends leave us with more options and less clarity than ever before?  Mostly, yes.      

But I sensed in myself and in those around me a deeper connection to their own abilities and desire - two tools that equip every writer to move forward even when the way is not quite clear.  

We closed the retreat with a sharing circle and I was so grateful to hear how each participant would take some small piece from the weekend with them.  Over the course of the weekend I marveled at the beauty of human beings and how we open so beautifully to each other when time and circumstances allow.  

Sitting in that circle, I remembered Merton's famous vision,  

“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness… This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”  

For a few days last weekend in a barn in the mountains of Virginia, a handful of writers came together and found that we're not so separate as we imagine and for a few moments we all shone like the sun.  

*   *   *

Author, Shawn Smucker and I are offering a one-day retreat this coming October 15 in Carlisle, PA.  Titled, Writing As Witness, we will explore the ways writing can position us to witness the presence of God in our own lives and in the world.  Visit link to learn more.  

*   *   *

Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.  

What if we chose to deliberately look for 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.   

 

Establishing Summer Norms (We Don't Lick Each Other!) #SmallWonder Link-up

This is Isaiah,offering me some of his ice cream cone.  

He must have been about 2 years old.  Check out those sweet curls! 

(I'm re-sharing this post from 2014 as we gear up for summer here again.  The twins graduate from preschool this Wednesday and the older kids are out June 1st.  It's such an incredible time of change and transition for work-at-home Moms like me involving fun and memories as well as a dramatically increased workload.  Lord have mercy!)  

There are times, as a parent, when you need to establish norms. 

Simple things like the appropriate surfaces for disposing of boogers, whether one may or may not fart on other people, and whether spontaneously licking another human being is ever appropriate.     

So when, for instance, I see Levi lick his brother’s check, I make a firm and direct proclamation, “We don’t lick each other!” 

Or when someone picks their nose while I’m reading to them at bed time and proceeds to wipe it on the wall, I say, “We don’t wipe our boogers on the wall!” 

As I said, sometimes you need to establish norms.  While other families may do as they please (Licking? Why, yes, please.   Booger’s on the wall?  Of course, that’s fine art to me!) we here are choosing to dance to a different drum. 

//

“Only 19 and ½ more days of school!” my daughter said.

She may as well have been Paul Revere screaming his midnight warning, so great was my alarm. 

Good God, I thought, where have I been? What’s happened?  The hour draweth nigh!

The British, indeed, are coming. 

The British are coming and they are demanding to be entertained, to be vacation-bible-schooled and swim-lessoned, to be play-dated and day-tripped and, good Lord, I am unprepared. 

Nineteen and a half more days and me without a plan.

//

So I decided to establish some norms.

We are doing SLOW this summer.  We are eating ice cream on the porch and watching storms move through.  We are catching fireflies (if we let them stay up late enough) and getting bored enough to use our imaginations.  We are camping in the back yard because it is FREE and state-parking because it also is FREE. 

We are doing KINDNESS, which is a spacious sort of thing that pairs well with SLOW and the NON-LICKING of other people.  It will take practice and there will be sure-misses, but KINDNESS is also free and I plan to help us all be prodigal in its dispensation by the time fall rolls around.

We are practicing GENTLENESS which, good Lord, is a long enough word to be out of fashion these days, but necessary also for when our KINDNESS slips and SLOW starts to feel like stagnation.  We will not hit when we are farted on, though we may hit (it's reflexive) if we are bitten. 

We are doing HOME this summer, because we’ve waited so long to find one and because having a home means making one which isn’t something that can be done without a little presence.  We will be HOME and unhappy and scraping the boogers off the wall.  Then we will still be HOME and laughing as we tell about the ones who ate their boogers and the ones who used them to decorate.  We will be HOME when the first hail storm tears through and when the first peas are ripe for picking.  We will be HOME for skinned knees and sibling frustrations, HOME for sharing and collaboration. 

We will ALL work hard, because I'm not a martyr in the making and we will knock-off before the work is done because, let's face it, it will never really be done. 

We will do vacation bible school and swim lessons and vacation, but they are not our norms, not the hub that holds the spokes of our summer together. 

The British are coming, but don’t worry, it’s ok.  There’ll be almost no licking, I promise. 

*   *   *   *

I'm super excited to be joining with Andi Cumbo-Floyd and Shawn Smucker to organize a weekend writer's retreat this summer at God's Whisper Farm in the beautiful mountains of Virginia.  Visit Andi's website for more info!

Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.  

What if we chose to deliberately look for 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.   

Quiet Lights (Advent Wonder for Your In-box 2015)

 

(This post is a re-post, but the invitation to Quiet Lights continues this Advent - don't miss out.  Simply subscribe via the link below!)

Dinner time at our house is often, well, make that always, insane. 

But every once in awhile, when I've had it up-to-here with the volume and intensity, I set a few small candles in the center of the table and turn off the overhead lights.  The darkness brings a momentary quiet, which is no small feat with four young children gathered around.  

We all hear the striking of the match and watch as light bursts into being.  Lighting candles at dinner instills, for a few moments at least, a sense of awe and wonder in the middle of what's otherwise a hectic, frantic, free-for-all.
 
Walking through a store a few weeks ago, I found myself surrounded by the stuff of Christmas.  As I thought of the season ahead, I realized my deepest desire is to be present to this precious season - to slow down and be re-awakened to awe and wonder.
 
Maybe this is your desire too?
 
This Advent season I'd like to offer you a series of Quiet Lights in your inbox.  Think of these emails as me lighting a candle for you.  

Each email will contain a simple poem or quote as well as a few links to good reads from around the web aimed at deepening your capacity for presence, stillness and wonder during advent.  

This isn't one more thing to do, no one needs that this time of year, it's simply an opportunity to be - to be present, to be aware, to be awakened. 

These free emails will begin December 1st and continue through the Christmas season.  Interested?  Click on the link below to enter your email address and subscribe or visit the Field of Wild Flowers facebook page and send me a private message and I'll add you myself.  

I'd be grateful if you'd share this post (via facebook or email) with both your friends at large and two or three close friends who you believe would be blessed by receiving Quiet Lights in their inbox.  The more, the merrier!

Click here to subscribe to Quiet Lights.

Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day
is the rest we take between two deep breaths,
or the turning inwards in prayer
for five short minutes.
—Etty Hillesum

Pause

 

This morning the world was cloaked,

white on white, as snow fell and the mountains

shied behind a sheet of fog.  The cornfield 

stretched between, like a wide sheet of paper,

empty. 

Lighting the fire, I feel the way

these two days between Thanksgiving

and Advent stretch silent and open.

I want to fall into these days,

to lay down in the great white expanse

of them amidst the absence of color, of noise,

of need. 

This is the moment between satisfaction

and desire when we turn our hearts

from training to see what is,

to longing for that which is to come.  


There's still time to sign-up to receive weekly poems and good links to deepen your journey through advent this year.  Visit this link to subscribe or visit Quiet Lights: Advent Wonder for Your Inbox to find out more. 
 

Quiet Lights: Advent Wonder in Your Inbox

 

Dinner time at our house is often insane, well, make that always insane. 

But every once in awhile, when I've had it up-to-here with the volume and intensity, I set a few small candles in the center of the table and turn off the overhead lights.  The darkness brings a momentary quiet, which is no small feat with four young children gathered around.  

We all hear the striking of the match and watch as light bursts into being.  Lighting candles at dinner instills, for a few moments at least, a sense of awe and wonder in the middle of what's otherwise a hectic, frantic, free-for-all.
 
Walking through a store a few weeks ago, I found myself surrounded by the stuff of Christmas.  As I thought of the season ahead, I realized my deepest desire is to be present to this precious season - to slow down and be re-awakened to awe and wonder.
 
Maybe this is your desire too?
 
This Advent season I'd like to offer you a series of Quiet Lights in your inbox.  Think of these emails as me lighting a candle for you.  

Each email will contain a simple poem or quote as well as a few links to good reads from around the web aimed at deepening your capacity for presence, stillness and wonder during advent.  

This isn't one more thing to do, no one needs that this time of year, it's simply an opportunity to be - to be present, to be aware, to be awakened. 

These free emails will begin December 1st and continue through the Christmas season.  Interested?  Click on the link below to enter your email address and subscribe or visit the Field of Wild Flowers facebook page and send me a private message and I'll add you myself.  

I'd be grateful if you'd share this post (via facebook or email) with both your friends at large and two or three close friends who you believe would be blessed by receiving Quiet Lights in their inbox.  The more, the merrier!

Click here to subscribe to Quiet Lights.

Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day
is the rest we take between two deep breaths,
or the turning inwards in prayer
for five short minutes.
—Etty Hillesum

Linking today with Playdates With God and Unforced Rhythms. 

Vacation Descends

 Our kids enjoying ice cream on the porch swing.

We are not on vacation.  

It's the last day of spring and my husband's off from work.  The sky is pale blue like fine china swirled with bits of white.  The sun has swallowed a week’s worth of humidity and breathes out now a cool breeze that has me craving a warm cup of coffee.  

There's a lightness to this day that cannot be pinned to the weather alone.

Though the sky here is clear, I’m certain pigs are flying somewhere because everyone in our house – from the eight-year-old on down to the two-year-old twins – slept in this morning until EIGHT o’clock.  My husband’s alarm went off at five thirty and mine followed suit at six, but thankfully we both had the good sense to slap them back into silence.  

We all woke loose-limbed and sluggish, TIRED, and the oldest boy declared as we lolled on the couches, “I’m going to be lazy all day today.” His copycat brother followed suit announcing without skipping a beat that he was going to “be a kid all day today.”  Then the littlest one added his own plan, “Me gonna be an electric man all day today." 

From there the day unfolds – bowls of cereal, crumbs tracked from room to room, little projects broken up by more food and moments of play as we wander the yard and garden, all of us loose still and relaxed.  My daughter and I re-pott the avocado tree, damaging the roots so that it droops now like a broken-hearted waif standing in the corner of the porch.  On a day like today, though, it seems o.k. and I believe it will recover.

My husband unpacks the hundreds (and I do mean hundreds) of screws and bolts and tentatively starts on the new swing set that’s sat, unassembled, in the garage for weeks.  Even this, the scattered parts unlabeled, arouses no frustration, we'll tinker a little with it and maybe with time it will come together. 

A few weeks ago I told my husband how this new-old house of ours feels like a vacation rental, so full of newness, surprise and possibility.  Something in this space, this time, brings together the elements of rest, play and adventure that form the essential triad of a good vacation.

All of this has got me thinking about vacation – how it isn’t a place to go or thing to do or, worse, to be taken.  Vacation restores an openness and ease that's so often lacking in the pressure of day-to-day life.  This spaciousness softens and restores the human soul.

Vacation descends upon us, if we are willing, in moments unexpected.  The perfect work-day lunch, where last night's left-overs hit the spot and the company is good and the brief pause between what has been and will be done is fully felt, moments quietly stolen with a good book while the kids are Somewhere Else, each of these can surprise us with their spaciousness - the way that what we need is found in the Here and Now in a way we didn't believe possible.  

This morning I woke in my own bed and sat on the couch while vacation unfolded around me – a little bit of lazy, a little bit of play, and a little bit of adventure, all right here, at home.  

This post is linked with The High Calling for their gathering of Best Vacation Stories.  Click on the link to read more stories about vacations near and far.  

What's your best vacation place?  Have you ever felt vacation sneak up on you at home? I'd love to hear about it below!