Y'ALL...

Y'all, I woke up Monday morning genuinely looking forward to going in to work. No tight neck muscles, no churning stomach, no clenched teeth...just a quiet smile as I headed out the door under a star-studded sky early Monday morning.

Can we all just pause a moment to appreciate what a HUGE deal this is?

Y'all, for the first time in I-can't-remember-when (at least 5 years!), I do not have to go to work or do a crap-ton of homework on Thanksgiving weekend. Several of the kids and their families are rolling in for the weekend, and I am super excited about cooking turkey, dressing, and all the fixings.

Can we just pause a moment to appreciate the gift of having time - finally - to be human?

Y'all, I am back in yoga class consistently, and I even attended a spin class last night for the first time in over 6 months. It felt wonderful to work up a sweat exerting long-neglected muscles.

Can we pause a moment to appreciate opportunities for self-care?

Y'all, in the past week, I had tea and a catch-up with a sister-friend who has walked this life with me for almost 50 years; I celebrated a major life event with a young friend I watched grow from a toddler to a man; I enjoyed Sabbath with a sister-friend who breathes Jesus all over me every time we are together; and I said goodbye-for-now to another sweet friend who worships now in the presence of her Savior and mine.

Can we pause a moment to savor the goodness of friendship?

It is the Golden Hour. The sun, already low in the western sky, casts a soft amber light across the hayfield outside my window. Early morning and late afternoon - sunrise and sunset - are magical times in the hayfield, simply because of the light.

Y'all...

I have been very, very tired - body and soul - for a long, long time. But today, I feel like I am waking up after a long and troubled sleep.

Today, I feel grateful.

Hopeful.

Awake.

A SOFT NOVEMBER MORNING

It's a soft, gray, mizzly day here at the farm. The air is cool and moist. Crows cackle in the trees behind the house and a soft drip-drip-drip plashes lazily from the roof edge into a rain-soaked trench below.

I could use more mornings like this.

Mom and I are staying home from church this morning. Mom had another one of her crash-&-bounce-back, cheat-death-again episodes yesterday. She is fine today, but she is tired.

Yesterday, we also celebrated the quickly approaching arrival of the newest member of our family. In the span of two weeks, I will have spent a weekend of fervent prayer in the hospital, applied my nursing training to revive an unconscious parent, and attended a baby shower, a wedding, and a funeral. Oh, and I also worked, bought groceries, cooked meals, did laundry, changed bed linens, and all the usual stuff.

It is lovely today to have a pause, a quiet day at home, a sabbath.

It's been a couple of crazy weeks since I last posted here at the blog. I tried to keep my once-weekly commitment - actually have two unfinished drafts from those silent weeks - but, you know, life. Both of my aging parents have commented to me recently - and I agree - "Life is so ridiculous!"

My mind is not clear enough this morning to write a well-thought-out post - am still processing so many emotions and needs and uncertainties - but I want to write something, if only to prevent two silent weeks at the blog from rolling into three. And so...

Today, I am sharing a few things for which I am thankful.

I am thankful I have a job that doesn't leave me completely emotionally and physically exhausted at the end of each day. I am thankful for a reliable car and a paycheck that allows me to put gas in the tank so that I can drive to a hospital two hours away. I am thankful for supportive co-workers, faithful friends, and precious family who check on me and who pray for me when I am anxious.

I am thankful for a son-in-law who loves my sweet daughter so very, very well, and for his gracious, kind, generous parents who love her like their own. My heart is overwhelmed at the goodness of God shown to my family through every single one of the in-laws He has given us.

I am thankful for my nursing education and work experience; thankful that a health crisis triggers a trained response instead of panic; thankful that "head down, feet up" is a reflex and I know how to "use my levers [bones]" to lift and transfer a large, unconscious person.

I am thankful that even though I STILL do not have anything to wear to this wedding on Friday, I know I will be welcomed no matter what I show up wearing, it will be a joyful celebration, and I have already been promised a dance.

And I am thankful for this quiet day at home and a slow, soft morning on the porch swing. (I think of you, Katherine, every time I sit here. Thank you!)

THOU SHALT NOT

A beautiful fall day on a road less traveled.

"What emotions are you not allowed to feel? I want you to take time this week to think about what feelings you have that you have been told or that you have believed you should not feel, and I want you to be honest with yourself. Let's come back and talk about those next week."

That was a tough assignment. I'm a people-pleaser who has a long history of figuring out the expected answer so that I can say and do the "right" thing. An easier assignment would have been: What are you supposed to feel? What would be the culturally/familial/good-Christian-girl response?

I am a life-long servant of Should, fluent in the languages of Ought and Appropriate.

My first challenge was to try to identify what am I not allowed to feel. My experience has been six decades of subtle and not-so-subtle comments and teachings along the lines of "This is the correct feeling, response, opinion, etc....and anything different is unbiblical, sinful, and dishonors God." (And if I've got any of that mess going on in my life, I'd better get it cleaned up before it leaks out and someone finds out about it!)

I remember once, several years ago, when a friend who was processing a heartbreaking personal tragedy - when this friend admitted "I am so angry at God right now!," an acquaintance who overheard her gasped and retorted emphatically, "Oh, don't say that! You should never be angry with God, and you certainly shouldn't say it out loud if you are!"

In the moment, my own grief-clouded mind had a vague recollection that there are multiple scripture passages about things like being angry and sinning not and don't let the sun go down on your anger and such, but still, this person's comment felt so grossly inappropriate, out-of-place, and downright wrong. Didn't God already know my friend's heart, her grief, the tumult of her emotions? Would pretending that she felt differently somehow be "more Christian," more God honoring? Did not David - the man after God's own heart - freely confess his innermost feelings and struggles, and did not God preserve David's outpouring of emotion for the church? What was this acquaintance suggesting? That dishonesty with God and forced self-deception were somehow better than my friend's open and honest outpouring of grief, anger, and distress?

But back to my homework several weeks ago. What am I not allowed to feel? And of that list of taboo emotions, which do I actually feel? Could I be honest with myself? Could I be honest with God?

It was not a fun assignment.

You shall not be angry. You shall not feel hurt. You shall not express thoughts, opinions, or preferences that do not align with those of people in positions of power. You shall not speak out against injustice or express any feelings of distress if doing so might disrupt the peace and tranquility of the status quo.

What I discovered was that so many of the "thou shalt nots" holding my heart hostage were not issued by God at all, but by broken people around me.

Sin - including bondage to man-made "thou shalt nots" - enslaves.

The gospel of Jesus liberates.

Opening up the deep recesses of my guarded heart to the light did not bring more guilt, shame, and wretchedness, as I had expected. On the contrary, it brought freedom, hope, joy...and a deeper sense of how greatly I am loved by my heavenly Father.

God knows my heart. Why should I be hesitant to share freely with him all of my feelings and struggles? He already knows, and he can handle anything I bring him...even those things considered forbidden or taboo. He is so good, so faithful, so compassionate, so gentle, so incredibly kind.

CONVERSATIONS THAT TURN QUICKLY TO CHRIST

Blessed to talk with the youngest son! He weathered Hurricane Milton safely and was thankful for a day of sunshine and cooler temperatures yesterday. Conversation touched several topics, but I want to share two of those topics here.

Youngest Son bought a street bike several months ago and he is absolutely loving it. As we talked yesterday, he commented that one thing he enjoys about riding the bike is the amount of concentration, awareness, and continuous adaptability it demands. He explained that the mental focus required when he rides his bike actually provides mental rest "from all the other things" that otherwise occupy his thoughts.

My old boss at the hospital lab once told me the same thing about riding horses. "If you go for a run to de-stress, all the frustrations and worries of work still make their way into your head. But when you're riding horses, it requires just enough concentration and focus to push all those other thoughts out so that you can mentally rest for a while."

This got me to thinking about rest. We need physical rest, and we all know that getting enough rest for our bodies is hard work in today's go-go-go culture. But we also need rest for our minds.

I feel like my brain NEVER turns off. I have lain awake at night, physically exhausted and desperately desiring sleep, with my mind running a hundred miles a minute trying to untangle some Gordian Knot that could absolutely wait until morning. I've screamed silently in the darkness to my squirrel-on-speed brain, "Just shut up and go to sleep already?!"

(I know folks who seem not to have this problem of a brain with no "off" switch, and I've regarded them enviously at times, thinking how peaceful it must be to have a clear, white, static-free screen between their ears. How quiet, how calm. I cannot even imagine.)

If a naturally keyed-up brain isn't enough of an obstacle to mental rest, there are also text messages, emails, podcasts, social media scrolling, music at the coffee shop/Walmart/the grocery store, traffic lights, and blinking lights from our devices even after the house goes dark to help keep those neurons firing, firing, firing.

Yes, physical rest is hard work; but for some of us, mental rest is even harder.

And then there is soul rest, which is perhaps the hardest of all...and which brings me to the second topic of conversation that I wanted to share. Youngest Son said something to the effect of (and Ben, please correct me if I get this wrong - I can edit this post!): When Christians are together, why does conversation not turn more naturally and consistently to Christ and the Gospel?

I mean, think about it: what do we talk about when we get together? We talk about our kids, jobs, projects we are working on at home, favorite sports teams, the weather in -----, vacation plans, the price of eggs and cheese this week at the grocery store, movies, car problems, recipes for holiday appetizers, frustrations with relatives, FaceBook memes, and Aunt Bertha's recovery from recent knee surgery.

Oh, sure, we may throw in a spiritual reference - "Please pray for Aunt Bertha" or "Thank God we didn't have any damage from the storm" - but God, faith, and spiritual matters are not usually the central topic of conversation.

This got me to thinking about conversations I've had over the past week. If I counted correctly, only three of those conversations were about faith in any significant way. To be honest, I am not a big conversationalist, but, still...only three?!

And here's how I think that relates to soul rest: If I am not talking to myself often (without ceasing) about Jesus, his love for me, and his work on my behalf, and if I am not excited to talk to others about how much Jesus loves sinners, and if I am not curious about how Jesus is working in the hearts and souls of the people around me, if I am not eager to hear how Christ is growing and challenging and sustaining my brothers and sisters each day - then how am I ever going to find soul rest, because the Gospel IS soul rest, and I need to be hearing it and speaking it and wrestling with its implications alongside others every chance I can.

Lord, forgive me for all my idle words. Quicken my stony heart. Heal my blind eyes so that I can see Gospel needs. Open my deaf ears so that I can hear Gospel opportunities. Loosen my mute tongue, so that I speak often and freely of you and your glorious grace. Lord, please, turn my conversations quickly and joyfully to Jesus, because I and the people around me desperately need the rest that only my beautiful Savior can give.

A LITTLE WINDOW INTO MY WORLD

A Happy Place

I saw a post on Facebook recently where an interviewer asked individuals what they were learning in therapy. Participants' one-word answers included: Accountability; Empathy; Resilience; Patience.

Foregoing the one-word stipulation, here's my go at answering the question.

Things I am learning in therapy:

I am developing a larger emotional vocabulary.

Other people's emotional regulation is not my responsibility; my own emotional regulation is my responsibility.

Being assertive does not equal aggression, insubordination, or manipulation.

I cannot change others; I can work on changing me.

Being honest about my hurts, weaknesses, fears, and failures is hard, but it is also one of the first steps toward moving past them.

* * * * *

Switching topics, what are some things I am changing in my life?

Recent changes to my day-to-day:

Biggest change is undoubtedly the new job: work is much less stressful, I am loving learning new things, and staff actually take a break for lunch together each day. (How weird is that in the nursing profession?!)

I have reduced my caffeine intake from half a pot of coffee in the morning and a super-size Diet Coke in the afternoon to 2 cups of coffee or tea per day. I've also added a "green drink" to my morning routine.

Alcohol consumption has been slashed to practically zero. This physically hurt the first week; today, no longer craving the daily bourbon or gin-&-tonic. (Thank you, Jesus!)

Mom and I are eating our evening meal earlier in the day (before 5:00 pm), and portions for me are significantly smaller.

I am sleeping at least 8 hours each night, even when I have to be up at 4:00 in the morning. It is  wonderful to be free from the shrieking night-time on-call alarm.

Aiming to do yoga twice a week, walking at least twice a week. So far, so good!

Y'all, I bought new scrubs for the new job and, this past week, I ordered a few items of fall clothing for myself without overthinking it and without feeling guilty. That is huge. (In the past, I would consider a purchase for several weeks or months, often talking myself out of the purchase altogether or feeling guilty for buying something for myself if I went through with the purchase.)

* * * * *

What about writing?

I am not writing as much or as consistently as I'd like, but I am also not beating myself up about that. On days that I can write, I am thankful. On days that I am not able to write, I shrug it off and tell myself, "Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow."

I'm trying to post once a week consistently here at the blog. Sometimes, however, it is a struggle to come up with ideas to write about. Suggestions?

I am also working on another fiction manuscript. It is a story I feel compelled to write, an exorcism of sorts. I am not especially fond of the story line, and working on the project - because of difficult themes within the story - often makes me angry. I'm struggling with the resolve to "just be angry and get it done!" so that I can move on to pleasanter projects. Prayers appreciated!

* * * * *

What about YOU, Dear Reader?

What are you learning about yourself? about others?

What positive changes have you made recently in your daily routine?

What hobbies or passions do you desire to pursue? How are you making those things happen?

I've given you a little window into my world today: I would love to have a little window into yours!

IT IS GOOD TO BE IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD

It is so, so good to be in the house of the Lord this morning.

Gratitude as I drove to church this morning:

• I am thankful for my new job. I have wonderful coworkers, I enjoy the work, and the schedule is a huge improvement.
• I have learned so much over the past 5-6 years: completed a difficult college degree; became comfortable with a plethora of practical nursing skills (still so many to learn); bought a car and car insurance for the first time ever in my life; learned how to take care of grown-up paperwork like my advanced directive, durable power of attorney, and will; started saving for retirement (a little late to the game at age 60, but at least it's a start).
• I have been privileged to work with and to care for some of the most beautiful people in the world; have fallen in love way too fast and grieved deeply.

Concerns as I drove to church this morning:

• Will I be provided for and taken care of when I am no longer able to work? Will I have a place to live when I am old?
• When I can no longer care for myself and must depend on others for my care, will I be a blessing or a burden?
• Will family still be present and active in my life when I get old, or will I be tucked away in a corner somewhere and forgotten?
• Is there anybody besides me thinking about these things today on my behalf for the future?

Most Sunday mornings, I drop Mom off at Sunday school class, then head to a cozy parlor for 45-minutes of writing time. This Sunday, however, the parlor is locked. I am sitting in the foyer outside the sanctuary to write.

I settled onto a hard bench with my Bible, laptop, and tea, a chaotic turmoil of thoughts and concerns roiling inside my head.

It's a bit noisy here in the foyer: the music team is going over songs for morning worship, and heavy traffic roars by outside the front door.

Lord, are you here? Can you hear me above the music, the traffic, the noisy thoughts inside my head?

Eyes closed, deep inhale. Hold it. Slow exhale.

Lord, I am anxious - again - about the future. What's next?

Breathe in, breathe out.

And then, rolling through the sanctuary doors, Adam's sweet voice:

"Thro' many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; 'tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.

"The Lord has promised good to me, his Word my hope secures; he will my shield and portion be, as long as life endures.

"And when this flesh and heart shall fail, and  mortal life shall cease, I shall possess within the veil a life of joy and peace."

Yes, He hears even above the noise, and He calms my fears.

* * * * *

I was glad when they said to me, "Let us go to the house of the LORD!" Psalm 122:1

One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to meditate in his temple. Psalm 27:4

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. Psalm 23:6

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

-originally posted September 25, 2015

As I am prone to do at this 50-something, menopausal stage of my life, I awoke in the wee hours of the morning one day this week and simply could not go back to sleep. This happens so frequently now that I have made wee-morning my regular time to pray for my children and for my church family. This particular morning, however, my mind turned to other things...

For some reason, as I lay awake in the darkness, memories of other times when I had lain awake in bed, praying, came to mind. Memories I hadn't visited in ages.

I recalled one of my most comforting childhood memories:  that of being tucked into bed at night by my dad or my mom.

Tired at the end of a long day of work or play, full from a good dinner and freshly bathed, I would climb into bed and burrow under the blankets. Dad would flip off the lights and come sit on the end of the bed, smelling deliciously of coffee and cigarette smoke and perhaps cowness or tractor exhaust or, if he had eaten lunch at Olympia that day, of garlic. We would talk a little bit, and then he would tell me it was time to say my bedtime prayers.

"Now I lay me down to sleep..."

I would pray, and then sometimes he would pray, too. That very simple children's prayer worked like a magic incantation, ushering me from wakefulness to the drowsy shadowland of almost-asleep.

"Amen."

A goodnight kiss, and then..."'Night, 'night. Sleep tight. Sweet dreams," as Daddy left the room.

I can't think of anything more comforting than slipping off to sleep with my last conscious thought being that my Father was right there with me.

* * *

And another memory came to mind...

I was a teenager, and my bed at the time was a fold-out couch in the dining room - the dining room, because it was a room the family didn't use every day and therefore had less traffic. (I am not sure, but I think maybe my regular room and bed had been given to a relative or guest who staying with us for an extended period.) At any rate, I often read my Bible in bed at the end of the day and would leave it on the arm of the couch when I turned out the lights.

Mom and Dad no longer came to tuck me in and say bedtime prayers - I was too big for that - but my heavenly Father still met with me to talk and pray before ushering me off to sleep. Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night, worried about an upcoming test at school or frightened by a bad dream, and I would feel around in the dark until I found my Bible. Pulling it close to me in bed, I would be comforted knowing that Yes, God was still close, still keeping watch.

I didn't think that small black leather-bound book was a magic charm or some kind of lucky amulet; no, it was a physical reminder - something I could touch with my hands - of the invisible presence of God.

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."

* * *

As I lay awake that morning earlier this week, remembering these scenes from my youth, it struck me that night after night, year after year, for as long as I can remember, God has faithfully met me in the gray twilight before sleep, and in the scary darkness of my fears and anxieties, and now, in the wee-morning wakefulness of middle-age.

Every night when I burrow under the blankets, He is there and waiting to talk. When I wake up and the sky is black and the stars are as bright as ice, He is still there, awake and listening and waiting to talk.

For over fifty years - how many nights of sleep? how many nights of sleeplessness? - God has been awake and present and listening and ready to meet with me.

A passage from Psalm 121 also came to mind in the wee-dark hours that particular morning:   "...he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is your keeper..." As I recalled those memories from my childhood and considered these verses from Psalms, I was brought to tears, overwhelmed by the incredible faithfulness of God.

Fifty+ years of nights for me, and He has never slumbered, never slept.

Every single night, my Father is awake, still watching, still protecting, still listening, still comforting.

All through the night.