Happy Independence Day, USA!
Hope you are celebrating with family or friends or even by yourself. Remember those who hoped great things, turned their backs on all that was familiar and came to this land bringing us to this day and place, home.
Some journeys are hard and it is easy to lose the way when winds blow fierce and rain and hail drive you to shelter. I’m still engaged with Bonnie’s book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace. I expect to be on this journey for a while.
I actually put it aside – a kind of running away from the storm – to read Mister Owita’s Guide to Gardening only to find connection in Carol Wall’s memoir too. Then I was back walking with Bonnie. During this month, I had some hard personal interactions that stole my words but reading on and being connected with others on the blog tour has been a great help.Bonnie asks in one prompt, “What feels comforting to you? List the things you like that bring your soul comfort. Uncover some whitespace by savoring one of these things this week, no matter how insignificant it feels.”
So I took myself to the library today; books have brought me comfort my whole life. I seemed always to be able to read 🙂 I remember my brother letting me walk along to the library and then, no doubt, he carried some of my books home. What joy when they built the new library just two blocks from our home!
Now my library is about 10 miles from home. As I walked back through the parking lot, I stopped mid-stride puzzled as it seemed a red heart was waving at me from under a tree. By the time the books were stowed and the camera set, the light had changed a bit but here is my love note from Jesus to the little girl in me – “I see you, Elaine!”
I’ve been reading Bonnie Gray’s blog, Faith Barista, for a few years now. It was in her writings that I learned about “whitespace”; not an empty, mindless place but rather a set apart, intentional space to let my soul breathe and to nurture it in ways that are unique to me.
I could relate to Bonnie as she wrote of taking time in coffee shops or walking or even just sitting out of doors. Time to rest, to wait, to be inspired, to write. I knew this was a need in my life and with the encouragement of her words I began to be more intentional to experience this rest. I began to take my camera with me and make space in my life to see, sometimes being wonderfully surprised by what the lens would capture.
As time went on, Bonnie began to write this book and to deal with the additional trauma of PTSD, post-traumatic stress disease. Some of us have very broken places in our lives. We cover them well, for a time. As Bonnie is healing, she finished writing this book that not only shares her story but encourages me to took into living my own better story now by learning to care for my soul, to let it heal and to grow.
I could have just quickly read through the book and put it up on a shelf, but I’m committed to this journey with Bonnie. A journey to find healing and more rest for my soul. Each chapter ends with three things: first, a thoughtful place to “Pull up a Chair” and uncover pieces of my story and to journal, for as for Bonnie says, “words are more than ink on paper. They are the soul prints of God’s voice – carrying the unique timber of heaven-on-earth that only you can speak.” Then there are Whitespace prompts – think-about-its that challenge me, make me squirm about or get up restlessly and go dig in the garden or pull weeds or sleep and dream till the answers come, and a pause for rest comes in this journey to awaken my heart to be fully alive to God – where I can – just. be. me. Then the last thing that Bonnie suggests are conversation starters. Needful, ’cause Jesus and I haven’t talked much about many of these things.
One of the things that still holds my attention was the answer I realized to a question posed in chapter 2 – “What realities have I accepted living with for decades that have become immovable parts of my identity?” No, I’m not going to tell here. But perhaps it is a question you might like to consider for your own life?
Thanks for reading about this journey I am taking; if your soul might need breathing space, some rest or healing, come along! Here are links for more encouragement:
Again, Bonnie writes at http://www.faithbarista.com/ Her book is available here. A blog tour to read how others are experiencing “Awakening your soul to rest” can be found though the blog tour button on the right.
“Delectable”, “luscious” are used to describe Lenten Roses in Seeing Flowers by Teri Dunn Chace with photography by Robert Llewellyn. Exquisitely complex comes to me.
Nourished in shade and deep composting tree litter, they are shy blooms rarely lifting their heads to gaze back at you. To see their beauty requires determination and the humility to bend low or even kneel in the woodsy damp round them. I’m sitting in the coffee shop surrounded by human bloomings and thinking about the passing of time and people and how difficult it can be to see the exquisite beauty of each person. How difficult it can be to lift my own head to look into the eyes of others. In the Book of Malachi, these lovely words are found, “But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings;”
I think about how hard it can be to lift my face to the Sun of righteousness Who has healing in His wings so that I might then serve others with humility.
The journey is a grand adventure, The reward to see exquisitely complex beauty is before me.
Do you find it easy to find the amazing beauty in others? I know I have often walked by without even noticing.
“With kindest wishes for your happiness in the New Year.”
Elaine
It has been about seven years since I stepping into the family history adventure. In this time I have met new family and said good-by to several senior members of these wonderful tribes. My life has been so enriched by the stories and I have grown interested in memoir. How I wish to come upon some long ago writings!
This year I found Spiritual Memoirs 101 and sometimes I even do the exercises!
This is a quiet time and so I’ve mused on the “Where Are You From?” Christmas exercise, one which you might find fun as we continue on through these twelve days of Christmas. So many are ready to put out the tree but for my family, we would still be in Christmas mode, and would stay so past Twelfth Night giving Dad a chance to celebrate his birthday in a festive house before boxes had to be fetched from the attic, packed and then hoisted up again.
I’m from twelve days of Christmas
I’m from sugar cookies rolled thin, Quality Street candy and candy canes too
I’m from homemade fruitcake, family dinners and packages sent ’round the world
I’m from Advent wreaths and singing O Come, O Come, Emmanuel on dark December mornings
I’m from candle lighted windows, frosty cold bedroom and a warm, cozy kitchen
I’m from prickly holly and an angel topped tree
I’m from red felt stockings hung down the stairs and secrets and laughter and Christmas tears
I’m from row house grandparents and Manger gardens with trains
I’m from Christmas movies and carols sung off-key
I’m from department store Christmas windows and market stalls of treats
What Christmas treasures have been mine! Like an amazing box of ornaments from a storehouse, each one unwrapped, the beautiful, the not so, some broken and ugly and all come alive again in memory. I sit here long years later, listening to wind howl, gazing into candlelight and feel the smile play on my face. For just a moment it can all real again, the crisp snap of a cookie, the pungent smell of sherry soaked fruitcake, the couch where I sat in tree and candlelight and longed for snow. I can feel the cold and crowds pressed in to see the wondrous animated scenes in the store windows and smell the roasting peanuts near the market bus stop and even warm my hands once again on the large bag of them I hold for the long ride home.
There were tears that stained Christmases too. Time and understanding have faded them gently to the background like the soft crumpled tissue that will cradle it all until another Christmas comes.
Susan Branch did a lovely post on houses today in which she likens a house to a bank into which deposits are made with the life experiences that happen there. Today I did some baking and listened to old Christmas music and thought about the immense comfort it brings, stirring memories of early home so deeply etched in my soul.
As I worked along, I could see again a Christmas eve. I sat on the steps behind stockings lined down the banister and watched as Dad painstakingly hung silvery tinsel from every branch while A Christmas Carol played on the radio. Sometimes I would be called to come behind the closed bedroom door to choose paper and ribbon for a gift I was to give.
I am grateful for the sweet spirit of Christmas past hovering near this cold, snowy Christmas Eve comforting in the loss of several friends who leave empty spaces in our lives this year.
My today house has many deposits in its walls. It is a quiet place this year but the laughter hidden in its walls makes me smile and decorate and enjoy living in this moment.
This nativity from our family room is special to me with its collection of animals and angels in great variety!
All are welcome at the manger.
We weep with those who weep.
I decide to drive through the reservoir on the way home. As I approach the dam, I can see the water spilling down, wave-like. I continue on the winding road and I’m amazed that geese are standing atop the spillway!
I find a place to park, walk back and hear them chattering as geese do. I image them all offering encouragement to each other to stand strong or paddle against the current, but I do have to wonder why, in such a large lake, they are here.
What fun are they experiencing or is this a kind of late afternoon strength training exercise?
There are no answers from them so I move on to my favorite place and into the golden glow.
And I find that the drive and the beauty and the brisk air are strengthening for me today. I hope you have a place to soak in the golden glory of late afternoon sun.
The month was layered…layers of blankets and quilts…sweaters and scarves and caps. Mornings were layered with fogs and mists that gave way in wisps to show sparkly carpets of frosted grass and leaf in rising sun over fields and woodland. And oakleaf hydrangeas wear frost in elegance on their now colorful leaves.
Trees are more defined in November, dark trunks and branches against evergreen and the late color of red maple and coppery blueberry and golden viburnum glow in the afternoon light, like layers of a masterful painting.
There are layers too of bird chatter as snowbirds and wrens scuffle around in mulch and dried leaves near the door while finches perch for fresh water and all kinds of birds cling to the feeders surveyed by chattering, fat, furry squirrels while flashes of cardinal and bluejay brighten the yard.
My thoughts are all layers too, stuff and plans, memories and dreamings… some shrouded in frost or cloud, some bathed in sunlight or moonlight. But always as I survey my small piece of world, I look to see through the layers, to really see, and to be grateful, giving thanks for all that I have been given in this life.