A Life Well Lived, part 1

Lately, I've been reading The Daily Connoisseur, especially the posts entitled "Comme les Francais." My sister-in-law turned me onto this lovely blog because the blogger, Jennifer, writes at length about the ten item wardrobe. (That alone makes it a worthwhile read because it is a revolutionary idea for Americans, I think!)

Anyway, she writes a lot about how the French live well. Because I am a fool for anything European, I was immediately drawn in. And it got me thinking: What does it mean to live well?

My Mother's Day tree in full bloom on a rainy evening.

Because, often, I read what someone else is doing (the French, in this case), convince myself that it is "right," and then try to emulate it. Of course, this never really works, the main reason being that I am not French; I grew up in the middle of the USA. I am American, through and through, so just trying to "be" French will never work. (Obvious, I know, but still I try.)

So, maybe the question is: What does it mean to live well to me?

And you?

It's been too long...

Here's the harvest the boy and I gathered in the last thirty minutes.  Not all that's out there, by any means, but still abundant.

And I'm reminded of Jame's words that struck me so deeply as the man and I planted in early spring:

"Therefore, putting aside all filthiness and all that remains of wickedness, in humility receive the word implanted which is able to save your souls."  (1:21)

Would that His word would have such a harvest in my life.

My uncle Jay

My uncle Jay died suddenly two weeks ago on April 6th.  Today's post is in memory of him.  Here's the slide show I created for his funeral.  He was full of life, and we will miss him.

a quote & a blessing

I've recently been reminded of this quote by Henri Nouwen, and it has been rolling around in my head:

"The more you are called to speak for God's love, the more you will need to deepen the knowledge of that love in your heart. The farther the outward journey takes you, the deeper the inward journey must be. Only when your roots are deep can your fruit be abundant" (The Only Necessary Thing).

I wonder, is this one of the reasons God called me to memorize the book of James? (One chapter + one verse down today!)


And such a blessing, my sweet husband and boy surprised me with breakfast in bed this morning.


And God surprised me with a lovely view of spring blooms out my window. I couldn't ask for more!

It is early spring...

and Kelby and I began planting our garden. (Okay, mostly Kelby began planting; I only helped a bit.) We scooped dirt out at the right depth, gently placed a seed in the ground, and covered it with soil. We were careful not to plant the seeds too close together, for we wanted to give each plant room to grow. Crowding seeds means small, immature plants. And these plants are meant for sustenance; we want them to grow well in order to feed our bodies, to make us healthy and strong.


James writes: "Therefore, putting aside all filthiness and all that remains of wickedness, in humility receive the word implanted, which is able to save your souls" (James 1:21).


It is early spring, and God is tending my soul garden. He has gently placed the seeds - His word - at the right depths and the right distance apart. Sometimes, let's be honest, most all the time, I fill up that empty space. But God meant it to be just that - space - room for His word to grow. My filling makes my soul garden overcrowded. Crowding seeds means small, immature plants. Crowding things means a small, immature me. And God meant these plants for sustenance; He desires (and so do I!) them to grow well in order to feed my soul, to make me healthy and strong.


Humbly, I wonder, is Hulu the only thing I've crowded into the garden of my soul that God so carefully planned? I don't think so. What else, Lord? What else do I need to put aside in order for Your word to grow, full and mature, in my soul garden?


It is early spring.

In one room...

Lives are shared. You begin to see...
the struggles,
the messiness that is life,
the hurts,
the celebrations,
the desires long forgotten.
You can feel the tension
and the release of finally sharing.


Stories are told. You begin to see...
your father's fingers stained from the Mulberry tree on Sunday afternoons,
your grandfather's little boy legs around the horse on his early morning ride to school,
your grandmother's strong young arms holding babies close,
history come to life.


Memories are stored up. You notice...
those hands work-worn like your father's,
the color of that cheek bright once more,
the slant of their noses just so,
the note a chuckle takes.


Four generations,
family,
in one room.
A gift.

Joy x2

A few weeks ago I posted on considering all things joy. Yesterday, as I was reviewing my Bible study and beginning to memorize the book of James, God was reminding me of this.

Side note on memorizing the book of James: Crazy! I know. Beth Moore challenged us all to memorize this short book during the study. Of course, I, with a 3 month old, said, "Absolutely not, Beth!" And wouldn't you guess that in my vehement response, God would suggest ever so sweetly that memorizing James would keep me from losing all I had gained over the last seven weeks? I suppose I should have seen that one coming. Nevertheless...



God was reminding me of something. He reminded me that joy is my birthright. (Now, I hadn't actually forgotten this little - big! - truth.) Further, though, He told me that just because it is my right doesn't mean that it cannot be taken from me. In fact, because it is from Him, the enemy will try to steal it away. But, lest I get discouraged, He said to stand firm. In standing firm, I could refuse to let my birthright of joy be taken from me. I could, in James' words, resist the devil.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything to stand firm. Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
--Ephesians 6:10-17

Yes, stand firm. And the sword of the Spirit, the word of God, for me in this case is consider it all joy (James 1:2a). Because joy IS our birthright. It is ours, not to be stolen from us. And that is worth celebrating.

Part of Me

There is something in that moment. When it hits you. When, suddenly, it's clear. A word, a phrase stands out brighter than the rest. Brighter than ever before. And your heart says, "Sit up. Listen. Take note."

The sermon was about being a servant, not just one who serves. He said that serving in the "hidden-ness" is what transforms our hearts. And isn't that what I'm after? Isn't that what Lent is all about, after all? Transformation? Preparation?

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”
Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”
(John 13:6-8)

There is something about serving that guarantees a part of ourselves, that gives a part of ourselves. I can't expect to serve wholeheartedly without giving myself over to the other. And then, too, when I allow someone else to serve me, I receive a part of them. How can I refuse someone's service to me without denying who they are? How can I hold on to myself in the service of others? I can't. I can't.

It's something to ponder, to mull over, to treasure. Because this moment of awareness is not accidental. This moment is preparing my heart, transforming my heart. I was made for this, after all.

And you? What is your moment?

My sermon notes & doodles. Hop on over to my friend's blog to see more doodles from church.

Lent

For the first time, I'm actively engaging in the season of Lent. My husband decided to give up computer use at home, which got me thinking...

about my time
about my habits
about my Bible study
about my conviction

And I knew it was right for me to join him in giving up and giving over, in this time of preparation. So here I am giving up Hulu for Lent. Reminding myself daily that what I fill my mind - my life - with is important. Remembering that being intentional with my God, with my husband, with my son is more important than the characters on my favorite shows.

Because it's not just about my time. Or my energy (or the lack thereof). It's about my heart. He is making my heart a garden. For Him. For His glory.

And in Hulu's place there is to be...

worship
prayer
Scripture
creativity
BEAUTY.

Watch. Listen. Enjoy.

Changing...

My friend and neighbor told me when my son was born that change is the new normal, or something to that effect. She basically meant that I should expect change. As soon as one routine seems to be set, Jesse will change, and we'll have to adjust. That certainly seems to be the case, and it's not a bad thing.

When I found out that I got into school and was pregnant at the same time, I knew there was a specific reason for it. That's why, as I take this semester off, one of my goals is to figure out how motherhood and writing fit together. (Right now I picture it as less of a balancing act, and more of a marriage. There will always be give and take, but they are meant to be together and make each other better.)

Although this is my goal, the first few weeks I didn't worry about it. I just wanted to get to know my son and myself as a mom. (Not to say that it can be accomplished in a few weeks; I don't think that will ever be finished.) After a bit of time "off" writing, I began to want it again. My fingers itched to get to the keyboard. But when I had a spare moment, I had neither the energy nor the ideas to even begin to write. So I waited a bit longer.

Now I have more energy, but often I feel bereft of ideas. Or I have ideas but no time. Or my boy needs me. Or it's easier to watch Hulu. Or, or, or...

But today, glorious day, my son fell asleep. I took a quick shower, and he was still sleeping. I messed around trying to get my printer to work, and he was still sleeping. So I thought, why not try to write? Eight-hundred plus words later, and I'm beginning to realize that it's not about the time or the ideas. Sometimes it's simply about sitting down to the computer, placing my fingers lightly on the keyboard, breathing deeply, and getting out some words. No matter how many. No matter how good.

I may feel great about it, like today. Or I may feel frustrated and drained and incapable of thought. No matter. It's a marriage. Some days are easy, and some are hard. But this journey of motherhood and writing were gifted together. I trust that they will make the other better.

So here's to change, to constant adjustment. Here's to being who I was meant to be. Here's to being whole - a daughter of the King, a wife, a mom, a writer, a friend, and so much more.

Consider it all joy...

Today, I find myself musing about joy, books, creating, work, and so much more.

At the beginning of the Bible study that I'm doing at my church, the author says that joy is our birthright in Christ. What a beautiful thought. Joy as a birthright. That has been sticking with me over the last few weeks.

I love to read. I can and will literally devour books day after day. Now that I'm nursing, I find this especially true because I'm sitting still for hours each day without the ability to get up and do something. So...I read.

Wouldn't you think, then, that these endless hours of reading would fill me to the brim with joy? Most of the time, they do. However, sometimes I find myself swallowed up by the waves that I once sailed. When I am only taking in without in turn creating, I drown. My joy in reading is stolen when I don't turn around and create or do something with what I'm taking in.

Sometimes I forget that the creating, the doing, is joyful. Madeleine L'Engle says it this way: "Our work should be our play."

I was just recently speaking with a friend about this. We both agreed that our hardest work, the thing that takes the most energy and time and risk is also the thing that is the most rewarding, the most joyful. For me, that thing is writing. It's sad that so many young people don't understand this. (I can recall many instances of my past students saying that they wanted to have a job where they didn't have to work; they just wanted the easy life, to play.) "Our work should be our play." Our work should be our joy.

In the grand moments of inspiration when I'm swept up by the story...joy. In the work of revising...joy. In the cleaning of the kitchen...joy. In the changing of a diaper...joy. In the waking up tired to nurse my hungry boy...joy. In the reading of the Word...joy. In the moments with friends, worshiping...joy. In the reading of good books...joy. In the remembering to photograph my boy each day...joy.

Consider it all joy.

My husband planning a lovely 27th "Napa Night" birthday party for me.
Consider it all joy.

My beautiful, sleeping boy.
Consider it ALL joy.
In Christ.

My cute boy...

Today, I'll just let my cute boy do the talking!

Happy Tuesday.

For-ev-er

I can see Squints from The Sandlot mouthing the word in slow motion, his bottom lip folding under the pressure of his teeth: "For-ev-er." Yes, it's been forever. And in that forever space, so much has happened. Here's the quick-and-dirty list:

1. Kelby and I found out we were pregnant. Woohoo!
2. The next day, I found out that I got into Vermont College of Fine Arts to study Writing for Children and Young Adults - my dream come true!
3. I finished the year and quit my teaching job in order to focus on graduate school and the baby.
4. I completed my first semester at VCFA with the rough draft of a picture book, a short story, and half of a novel.
5. I had my beautiful boy on December 1st, 2011. He was born on his great-grandpa Jesse's birthday and named after him.

This really has been a whirlwind year of blessings. The Lord really poured out his blessing and made his scripture come alive for me: "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not calamity, plans to give you a future and a hope'" (Jeremiah 29:11).

As I was reading another blog this morning, I came upon an amazing and simple idea for keeping up on this blog. In yesterday's post, Ashley Ann of Under the Sycamore mentioned that she has "started a little project of taking one picture a day on her phone." For this perpetually-forgetting-the-camera-and-missing-such-sweet-moments-girl, that sounded just simple enough. After all, I'm never that far from my phone. I decided that I'm going to copy-cat this year, and try to make that project my own. A picture a day (or more, depending on my mood.)

Now don't get your hopes up, you five followers who may have already abandoned me during my extremely long hiatus. I am not going to post every day. That just doesn't seem doable. I will, however, try to post my daily photos at least once a week with an update. Hopefully, hopefully...

Here are three photos from today. Enjoy!

Grace

I'm amazed how quick I am to judge. How quick I am to find fault. And, yet, in one conversation, just a few breaths, the Lord reveals to me my lack of grace for others.

The God of all grace, who gives a multitude of good and wonderful gifts to His children - to us, to me - can forgive and forgive and forgive. He blesses continually, never ceasing, without fail. Doesn't he say that those who've been forgiven much, love much? Isn't that grace, too? I, who have been given abundant grace, shouldn't I be giving grace abundantly? YES.

Here I stand, reminded by my Loving Father who I am meant to be - one who gives grace with abandon. And I am thankful. Thankful that He reminds. Thankful that He gives second chances (and third and fourth and fifth chances...) Thankful that He is the ultimate Grace-Giver for all the times I fall short and always. Thankful for the gift of moments, gentle nudges, and new days.


#94-102 of One Thousand Gifts...

ten beautifully extra minutes to sip, savor, and read

full conversation - the opening of a soul, a heart when ears are ready

dinner - the preparation of it

wet cloth over messy countertop - clean

soft background music of water in dishwasher

tired feet and toes (meaning I walked today)

the heart of the Body shared in stories

quiet eight o'clock hour in front of the fire

hard lovely reminders about my lack of grace and chances to start anew

Fragile

Life seems to me right now fragile. Not in an "I'm scared it's going to break" kind of way. But a fleeting, precious kind of way.

I don't want to lose out on it - any of it. Every part of my being hums with anticipation. This is it. Can you feel it - the gentle vibrations? Can you hear it - the tinkling of chimes all around? There is purpose here.

I can feel my arms open wide, spread out like wings for flight. And I'm twirling. Twirling in the hope of what my Creator has purposed and prepared. Twirling in the light of His promises. Twirling in the moment that stills and captures my heart. The briefest flash. Love.

Still. Take a moment. Breath. Rest. Glory.

Winter Snow

It snowed the other day - thick snowflakes falling silently and faithfully. It happened after Christmas, but it was still breathtaking.

That really has nothing to do with this, except in name. This song, by Audrey Assad, is possibly the most beautiful and heart-wrenching song I have ever heard. Our God is one who is quiet. He is steady and faithful. He is soft, gentle. He does not push us or drag us along; rather, He calls us to Him with a love so tender, so true. When I hear this song, I can only stand in awe of my God.

Listen - I know you'll love it.

"I imagine that's how we'll get to heaven," she said.

"We'll be played there on a song, and we'll arrive twirling."

I went, tonight, to Grace Notes at my church. It's a "musical interlude" held each month with a local musician. Without a doubt, it was the most calming, beautiful time I've spent just "being" in so long. As the notes seeped into my bones and filled up my soul, the tension eased ever so slowly off of me, and I could breathe again.



I think God must glory in music. The way my soul dances and sways and twirls to the sound assures me that He is there. In the movie The Holiday, the character Miles says to his love interest, "Iris, if you were a melody...I used only the good notes." I wonder if our souls are a melody to God? I wonder if He used only the good notes to form us, and along the way we hit some wrong notes, we create some discordant sounds, but because He made us, because He saved us, because we are holy, precious, and loved, we are still a beautiful melody to Him?



I believe there is truth in the music. I believe that twirling and dancing is the way to live fully abandoned to Him. I believe that our souls, open and attentive to His spirit, are a melody played just for Him.

Summer updates...

I know, I know, I haven't been very good about keeping up with this little blog and its five followers through the summer months. However, I don't feel so terribly bad since I know all five followers, and they generally know what I've been up to. But if you are one of the visitors, here's a summer update for you.

I spent quite a lot of time with my brother and sister-in-law (much more a sister than an in-law) at the local farmer's market.





They grew a tremendous garden this summer (I didn't help much with that) and sold their produce on Saturday mornings (I did help with that.)







My family...my WHOLE family (mom, dad, brothers, sisters, girlfriends, cousins, aunts, uncles, you name it) also visited Michigan in July. It was beautiful.



Just look at the coast off of Makinac Island - I want to live there!



I also got to see my first fireflies - amazing. But even better to watch my two younger cousins entranced, tushes in the air.



More to come on my garden and fun summer things as we move deeper into fall. AHHHH.

Five beautiful things and one perfect day...

Saturday, and already five beautiful things before dinner have found their way into my life. I didn't take a single picture because I forgot my camera at home, but I'll describe them the best I can. (I've included a few pictures from other beautiful, perfect days, though.)

1st: An oxymoron: my lazy, productive morning. I know it sounds impossible, but it was wonderful. I got so much done (folding a pile of week-old laundry, cleaning the bedroom and kitchen, grading paragraphs, reading...), but it felt blissfully lazy at the same time. I was able to spend time with my Lord reading his word and soaking up his presence and the reminders that he so freely gives. Like this one: Ephesians 5:15-17 - more to come on that.



2nd: The cutest, little present for my friend who's about to pop. There's going to be a little boy in our lives soon, soon, soon, and I found him the most adorable something. Can't wait to post a picture of HIM in it, and I won't ruin the surprise for her.

3rd: A little girl of four or five years sitting, legs crossed, on a small stool in a used bookstore around the corner from her parents and little brother. She was sweetly flipping through a book that entranced her. It was my favorite picture of the day!

4th: My writing group, a set of four wonderful women whom I met this summer through the National Writing Project in my hometown. We decided to morph into a new writing group and keep things rolling, so we met yesterday at a coffee shop I love to talk, listen, and spout ideas into our stories.

5th: Meeting our beautiful friends to talk and laugh and generally enjoy life together.



And one perfect day... one perfect FALL day. It was cloudy and just a bit drizzly and chilly and lovely. I've been waiting for fall not very patiently and saying under my breath that it certainly needs to be fall if school is in full swing, and finally it is. The leaves were turning at the lake by my house and starting to drop yellow on the ground - they were the first I've noticed. I'm so ready for sweaters and Pumpkin Spice Lattes and scarves and crunching leaves and everything cozy and cool. Plus, I listened to two fun ladies on my iPod and realized they sound like fall. Check them out: Katie Herzig, especially "Songbird," "I Want to Belong to You," and "Wish You Well" on her album Apple Tree and Missy Higgins on her album The Sound of White.

What do beautiful things on a perfect day look like to you?

The story He (re)told me...

Once I had chosen Him again, once I had turned back out of the dull, apathetic space I was in, toward the life and light of His being, I was curious. Why, when I had asked so fully to experience the Holy Spirit, had I instead slipped so completely into apathy? I went on a walk with Him, and He retold me His story, but this time I heard the part of the Holy Spirit.

This is what He revealed...

He has chosen us, you and me, as the place for His Spirit, His personal, powerful, active presence in the world, in which to reside. The God of the universe wants to live in us, wants to put His power in us. Amazing. But there's more.

He reminded me of the tabernacle in the Old Testament (see Exodus). He reminded me of the perfection of it. He gave Moses exact measurements, He directed Moses to the perfect materials, and He commanded that only the most skilled and gifted craftsmen were to work on the tabernacle. It had to be perfect for His Spirit to live there. Just like we have to be perfect for His Spirit to live in us.

But we aren't. We sin. We choose to turn away, to let our hearts wander far from Him all the time. He wanted us for his temple, though, so He sent Jesus to earth to become a man like us, to struggle like us, and to ultimately die the most painful, excruciating death possible in order that He could take away our sin and live in us. It's an amazing - true - story.

At that moment everything looked new and clean to me. Each piece of nature stood out in stark contrast to things around it. The lines were crisp. He has given me a new story to live out.

What story are you living out?

Megan

P.S. If you want to read more on the Holy Spirit, check out Francis Chan's new book.