grateful for all of this

July 2019 // L'abri in Eck en Wiel, the Netherlands

rhubarb bulbs from L. // biking 11 miles through First Landing State Park, treading through mud, the glassy water reflections of the bald cypress trees // the most beautiful illuminated Scripture journal from S. // C.'s hot, flaky, buttery biscuits straight from the oven // 5 o'clock walks, rain or shine // The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway // psalms set to music by a sweet couple from Kansas // time to work on my photo project, capturing women sans make-up // two packages on the same day, one with hair care and the other with photo books // respecting myself and communicating with friends and family today (difficult conversations and texts ensued) // finishing the insta page for my floral business, the Wildflower // teaching S. piano basics // the biggest hug from C. // planning my garden in the backyard sunshine // crying on the phone with my compassionate mother // venting on the phone with my compassionate sister // hope seeping back in

[all from Week 6 of quarantine]

an overcast spring walk

Walked outside twice today. Once before lunch after I'd been hunched over the computer grading assignments and listening to webinars. And again with my roommate and neighbor after work ended for the day. 

S L O W is the theme of life these days, for most of the world in quarantine (except for medical professionals working around the clock to fight this virus). COVID-19, why don't you slow down too? No need to hurry. 

"Hurry keeps the heart earth-bound." [Sarah Young] If that is so, then this halt of  all activity is opening our eyes to see what is eternal. It's not entertainment, not making money and finding security in finances, not going here there and everywhere. All of these are idols to the over-indulged, self-focused American. 

//

For the first time since last summer, I don't feel rushed. There are no looming deadlines. Yes, there are still daily expectations for work and caring for myself, but nothing pulsing in the back of my brain. I take my time cooking curried chicken and laughing with my friend. I return to the macrame wall hanging I started over two years ago and never finished. Making bread and tending to my plants and praying more and listening most. 

in support of non-productivity

I R E L A N D  //  July 2019 

When you thought you were going to spend a Saturday night at home alone, and your friends invite you to the new brewery in town...

You shirk the work you were planning on doing. And you join them for a couple hours.

Because you are an extrovert. But mostly because you value people, and connecting with them is the thrill of life. Life isn't all about productivity.

I've been reading Jenny Odell's book, How to Do Nothing, in little spurts lately. This passage confirms my convictions:

"I'm suggesting that we protect our spaces and our time for non-instrumental, noncommercial activity and thought, for maintenance, for care, for conviviality. And I'm suggesting that we fiercely protect our human animality against all technologies that actively ignore and disdain the body, the bodies of other beings, and the body of the landscape that we inhabit." 

 Preach, Jenny.

practicing gratitude

Glendalough, Ireland // H. took this; it's way better than the two I snapped of this same view

My step-brother came over for brunch today. In between whisking eggs and half-n-half together, and testing the quiche to see if it was setting, he asked me a question. What am I hopeful for right now? I had to pause. Because it didn't come easily. Even though there are so many gifts in my life, I don't always feel tangible hope.

So, I am pausing again, this time to practice gratitude.

01. my fiddle leaf fig is doing well. I moved it to a new spot in the apartment, and I think it likes its new home.
02. FaceTime with my sister this morning, if even for a short bit. There is something magical about Wi-Fi connection being that good although you are 8,574 miles apart.
03. my beautiful friend and neighbor dropped by to bring me some cotton she picked for my fall wreath-making
04. the local library! recent finds: Garden City, How to Do Nothing, and The Sabbath
05. actually loving my job this year as a music teacher at a local Catholic school. Year two, baby!
06. getting to see one of my favorite bands - Lowland Hum - live on Friday night with a dear, new friend who just moved to Norfolk
07. stumbling upon a YouTube channel of a sweet married couple from Georgia. i don't agree with all their perspectives, but there's something about their wholesomeness that is comforting.
08. getting to dote on my yet-to-be-born nephew, sending baby clothes and already spoiling that kiddo!
09. for the health of my family, spiritually and physically
10. a long phone chat on Thursday night to catch up with one of my closest friends from college. feeling mutual connection and love.

to trust

Glendalough Upper Lake, County Wicklow, Ireland

H. in the sun // 35 mm

beautiful H. // I'm really pleased with how this roll of film turned out. sometimes I get lucky. 

a Sessile Oak in Glendalough // 35 mm

I visited one of my favorite faith communities in Charlottesville, VA last weekend, All Souls. The pastor, Winn Collier, shared various quotes about waiting. This one especially struck me (no surprise there; Henri Nouwen speaks my soul-language):

Hope is trusting that something will be fulfilled, but fulfilled according to the promises and not just according to our wishes...To wait open-endedly is an enormously radical attitude toward life...So, too, is giving up control over our future and letting God define our life, trusting that God molds us according to God's love and not according to our fear.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               - Henri Nouwen 

When I was in Ireland this summer, I was grappling with some big unknowns awaiting me upon my return. I found out then that my sister/roommate/best friend is moving to teach in Thailand.

And I had the choice to trust. To trust that this new season will bring good. To trust that my needs will be provided for, even if in unexpected ways. To trust that God is Love and He will not leave me alone.

And today I have the same choice. I still don't know where/with whom I will live, but I see the Lord providing beautiful friendships, a deep contentment and joy about teaching at the Catholic school where I am starting my second year, and a peace that it will all be OK.

I'm fan-girling hard

Property of The New Domestic.org

Inspired lately by the life and work of Michelle Garrels. There was one week recently where I was constantly telling my sister (who is also my roommate) a new fact about the Garrels family every single day.

Mother to five kiddos, wife of musician Josh Garrels, home-school teacher, visual artist/designer. Can I be just like her when I'm 39?

I'm attracted by the purity that their family exudes. From the beautiful intentional way they name their children to their practice of rest every week to her perspective on home-schooling and doing it in ways that feel authentic to her (which means lots of outside time and nature study, lots of audio books, and incorporating crafts into the curriculum simply because she loves making things), she and Josh are creating a family culture of beauty, truth, and connectedness to one another.

And now, please excuse me, as I am gonna go peruse her blog and watch more YouTube videos about them!

the unlived things

I'm just one of your little ones (roughly translated from the German), Rainer Maria Rilke

Lately, I've been struggling with a decision I made months ago about work and my career. I had then decided to leave my teaching job at the end of the school year, not pursue certification, and explore other career possibilities. I thought the issue was settled. But now I struggle, and I am returning to what I had originally forsaken a few months ago. New perspective is leading me to shake things up.  

But am I shutting the door on opportunities I deeply want, but have too much fear to embrace? 

Does our true face ever speak? 

I often feel a tension between what's given to me and "the other" possibilities, whatever the heck "the other" is. 

//

One of my favorite movies, The Time Traveler's Wife, holds this tension so beautifully. A Chicago artist, Clare Abshire, falls in love with a time traveler, Henry DeTamble. He can't control when he travels, or how long he's gone. He is drawn out of linear time into present and future events, in the same way that gravity pulls a falling object back to earth. 

Henry often travels to a meadow where he meets Clare during her childhood years. Later in her life, she meets him in "real" time, and they marry. 

One is left wondering, did she ever have a choice? He would not have traveled to that meadow had they not fallen in love later in her life. But they would not have fallen in love had he not traveled to that meadow. His presence throughout her formative years melded her heart to his. It's a strange confluence of coincidence and fate, but also, choice. 

//

When I was nine years old, I started taking piano lessons from an amazing teacher. She pushed all her students farther than they ever thought they could go, and I was no exception. I had natural skill, and I enjoyed the beautiful classics she introduced me to, so I practiced intensely. For many, many years, I was at the piano for hours a day. My skill increased, I competed throughout middle and high school, and I went to college with a music scholarship. 

By my sophomore year, I started feeling burnout. I didn't practice as much as my colleagues, and I didn't have the desire to compete anymore. But, despite my degree requirements, I still wanted to give an hour long junior recital AND an hour long senior recital. My degree only required a half hour senior recital. 

I gave those long recitals, and I taught 16 piano students those last two years of college. After graduation, I continued teaching, though I didn't always love it. I guess you could say I had a love-hate relationship with teaching. And still do. I'm still teaching, though what that's looked like has morphed over the years. Currently, I am teaching private piano lessons as well as teaching general music and chorus part-time at a private school.

Sometimes I wonder, did I ever have a choice to be in this field? This amazing teacher came into my life and impressed me, pressing music into my soul, imprinting in me the sounds of Debussy and Bach and Chopin. 

//

In Rilke's poem "I'm just one of your little ones," he suggests that all paths lead to the "unlived things." 

Perhaps this path of music teaching will someday lead me elsewhere, like flower farming, or pastoring a church. 

Until then, I have a choice.