I Want You to Know

If you’re wondering what’s going on with us, please read this post.

There are many thoughts that fill my head. More ramblings that roll through my mind than y’all would ever care to read about here. Often I think so long on something that I feel everyone in my circle must understand, even if I had never actually vocalized the thoughts. The last few days have found me wondering about all of the things we have. I have written, though not in a very long time, about the ways my family has been abundantly blessed over the years. People have have given to us, we have stumbled across things, opportunities have just worked out more than I can remember.

All of these gifts and met-needs have filled our home with comforts. I scribble down thanks for these comforts daily. Over the last few days I was caught off guard when several dear friends told me that they didn’t fully know of our plan to escape the Minnesota cold. While we don’t really anticipate leaving anytime soon, we do hope to go, and we are planning accordingly. This is one of those things that is so often on my mind, I had felt that everyone must know. I was wrong, and glaringly so. These two seemingly random ramblings; my overwhelming blessings and my inability to vocalize the thoughts in my head do actually go together…just give it a minute please.

I’ve been wondering why I have so much. I mean, I didn’t really set out the second time around to have this typical American dream with the picket fence and two fancy cars in the garage. Yet here I sit.

I’m not complaining, please let me explain.

Post-divorce things got tricky for us. Jobs lost and given up, a new baby, blending a family that was not so sure it wanted mixing at times. We were in a bad financial place and all I could do was to pray. I asked for enough money to pay the bills. I asked for toys and activities for my children. I asked for friends and a community. I asked for the gas in my car to make it through the week. I asked for a home with a yard, a place to call ours. All of the things I prayed for through tears and with a very humbled heart I was given.

Hear me.

Hear me when I say that there was often not enough money to pay all of the bills, that my children did go without a lot of things other kids have, that I had to work to build a community twice, that very often the gas was not enough to get through the week., that the house we were given took a lot of work and a few years to become a home. Sometimes Frequently the prayers are not answered in the way we expect.

Now though.

As I look around this over-large house full of all sorts of things that I’d consider luxury, I wonder over the gift it all is. And I feel a bit ungrateful to think of walking away from it all. I feel like I am being wasteful of His gifts to me by seeing now that I no longer need or want all of this. Why would He have met these wants if they were just wants? Surely the creator would have known that I’d arrive here, in a place where the wants would be excess and the gifts would be nearly burdensome? This has something to do with First John 3:1 I think.

Yet here I am.

The only way I can rationalize it is in somehow paying it all forward. As I begin to think about discarding things, begin to wonder about selling off pieces of this American dream I also wonder how we can do some sort of good in the lives of our community. How this will look is uncertain to me, but I want to donate to more than just the Goodwill. I’ve asked to see the people in need in my community; read my personal community, not only the place where I live. I’m asking to offer up what I have because it is so much more than we need. I don’t yet know how this looks, but I hope that I see it as it is happening.

That I don’t miss it.

 

 

I want to know, I guess, that all I’ve been given is not wasted. That the notes of thanks I’ve written out continue to have meaning to someone, even if I am no longer that someone. I think about this a lot. And that is why I’m writing it down here to share to you, because I don’t want my circle of friends to miss this or feel as though I didn’t mention it.

I want you to know.

I want you to know that I see the needs you have, and while I may not be the one to meet them, I trust the One who will. I want you to know and so I (hope to follow through with this) will talk about what is going on with us and our stuff in person with you. I will make more of an effort to share with my dear friends where we are on this journey toward less stuff and more happiness.

It may be slow, but it will be deliberate.

The choices we are making today may end up not being the ones we want to live with ten years from now, but as I don’t regret any of the things I have asked for up till now I am sure that asking for this opportunity to travel, to live where there is more warmth and sunshine, to do something that feels selfish, but right… I trust that these prayers will be answered and that I’ll take each day as the gift it is. That is, I think, how I can show my appreciation and gratitude.

 

First Thoughts

The sea has long called to me. Most don’t understand this call as I was born and raised about as far as one could be from any ocean. Yet I feel the pull of the tide deep in my soul. I listen to the waves crash in my head as I steal the quiet of mornings. I feel the vastness of the ocean when I close my eyes on the day. Somehow the Lord saw fit to put this longing in me. I can’t see where else it would have come from. This is a different, a deeper desire than the one that calls me off down dirt roads and toward far off sunsets. A more plaintive whisper in my very heart. I hear it and I wait.

A person can not just set off to the sea when there are obligations and responsibilities; children and bills and chores…can she? We did just that for a brief moment in time. I can not recount here my entire journey to my heart, for it is long and vulnerable, and not quite “wordy” enough. More of it is felt than spoken, really. Over the next string of days I do hope to lock the thoughts down on paper, if only for myself. Some I’ll share, others will be the whispers that take me back one day to that forgotten place inside my own spirit. Set down in pencil and ink as a reminder that I am more than…than what…?

The waves were more powerful than I had recalled. As I stood on the shore watching swells crash over my children, seeing their small bodies submerged by the power of the ocean. I was at once in awe and yet fearful. This is something I had long wanted; babes at the sea, splashing, swimming, giggling. I had wanted to give them the power of a wave, the quiet of low-tide, the beauty of the sun over the water.

More.

I had wanted to drum the sound of the water into their hearts, had prayed that they would feel the pull of a place like this in their subconscious. I can not guarantee that they will long for it, live for it, run after it (or any other thing), but I can give them the experience at the shoreline. Can fill their cups to brimming over with tidal waters. This trip was a start, was a drop in the bucket.

I allowed the ocean to speak deeply to my children and I can only pray that the voice of it will not diminish as they grow. That if not the call of the waves than the cries of their own hearts will be loud and forceful. That through the power and wonder of the sea, they can relate their desires. I have watched them sleep on this adventure, seen their sun-kissed faces as they rest, the joy spread wide from their hearts. I have brought them to the type of place I could call home, a place I am my truest self and I have given it to them. I have kept nothing back. Yet I know it was only a vacation, an adventure, a respite. They see it as such and I fear that if it is only this then it will not have been enough.

How could a few days ever be enough?

I have given them a taste though. At this time it is what I can give. Who can say how the weeks and months and years ahead will unfold? We try to craft our future, jot outlines of plans, make a way to get what I want. I know though, in that deepest place, that I am not in control. Proverbs 19:21 is familiar to me; “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”. Honestly I’ll keep scheming, keep asking, keep planning for what I want from this life, for the lives of my children. I’ll seek that place where my want and His Will intersect. I trust that the place exists and that I will be made aware of it as I come upon it.

This day I will look for the guideposts which must be along my path. The signs and signals which will direct me in the way I should go, the way that I should lead them. Optimistically these paths will cut close to the water, easily and with deep crying out to us. We will not have to stretch to see the way they will fulfill a longing. More so, I will trust that the Lord wants good for me and that I can live that good by the sea…or not. Place matters, but not so much as well, this I’ve come to know over years spent out of place.

I circle back to the beginning. If this desire for the sea is not from the Lord than from where has it come? If He put a desire in me which is this strong I can trust that He will fulfill that desire in the way that only He can. I know this to be true. I will not force it or overly strive for it, but I will actively work toward my own goals seeking His will for me as I go along.

Slowing the Rush

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If you’ve been around awhile, you know that I don’t like the over-scheduled, crazy-busy lifestyle. It stresses me out, makes me a bad momma/wife/human. I really work to avoid the hustle and the rush. I can’t help but wonder; if I have to work toward the calm, is it really calm though?

Lately I find myself feeling busy and rushed and chaotic all of the time. I mean, like, every day. There is always one more thing to do, one more person to care for…the things that I want to do, that I want to make time for rarely seem to actually materialize.

So I’ve decided the best thing for me to do is get the eff out. Like maybe we should never return from the campground. Can I do that? Please?

Okay, so maybe it’s not super realistic, but trust that that I AM working on it as my end goal. And, though it may take me a year (or more) to get right back to here, I’ll take the time. To all of you who ask me where we’ll be next week, next month, next season…I say, Who knows!? Why do I need to rush into it, rush to know what’s next? I’ll take the days to figure it out. I’ll sit with the choices available to me.

As I ease into this slower than is my normal Autumn, I am still feeling the rush a bit. I still don’t want to do all of the things that my children would like me to do. I am saying no to some of the activities. I expressed a little of my worry over this recently, but I do feel like by showing my children that they can say no to good things that they will be better equipped to live their best life when they are grown. Only showing them the exhausted side of myself does not teach them to care for themselves well.

Something I have not talked much about recently is my physical health and how deeply it’s attached to my mental well being. All of the struggles I have had in the past with illness, while physically a bacterial health issue (psst; this really helped me out.Garden of Life Women’s Probiotics), were directly linked to the depression that settles over my soul in the Winter. My optimism in taking this season at my chosen pace feels now, like it will help me stay healthier and closer to myself even when the cold is heavy and the darkness is deep. This trusting of myself is a good thing for my children to see. It shows them how they can really listen to their bodies and that what they hear has value and worth. They don’t have to look outwardly for their own peace or healing, it is within them. This said, I hope they will see the beauty in accepting and seeking help when it is offered or needed. That they can trust themselves to know when they need to accept it.

What do you do to slow yourself? Do you take the time that you need or do you feel like you must keep moving, keep making progress, that you must keep going? I know that I need to stop, I wrote a teensy bit about the full-stop recently and it has kept me aware of my rolling through all of the things that are meant to be breaks for me. How that is a disservice to myself. Knowledge is, truly, power and I know that by being aware I will begin to take better advantage of the full-stop. Even just sitting here this day typing out these words in the middle of a Sunday are proof that I can listen and do what I really need.

As I look at my week ahead I know that it is a busy one. Even my “stay-home” day is not going to be spent at home this week. There will be much going and doing and playing and celebrating and… and hopefully some stopping too. I’ll have to schedule the stops I think. Take time when I am done here to put the breaks into my days where I can anticipate needing them. Taking them too will be key, knowing they are needed is not enough in and of itself. The biggest thing that I do for myself is to deliberately schedule in the exploring time. Being outside fixes most of what is broken in my soul. Taking the time to adventure heals all that is left unmended. This week I can see where I will break to head outdoors, I will plan deliberately. Even though it means more work-packing lunches, ensuring proper clothing, searching for hats and mittens-once we get there the time will be fulfilling.

There are no shortage of excuses these days, as the dreary, wet Autumn lingers and pours depression into my very soul I know that going outside is what will overtake the sadness. It will become more difficult to force myself out, remind me if you see me though will you? If you’re wondering what we’re up to or where our adventures are taking us please ask those questions! It helps to talk about it, to know there will be escape at some point. This week though? I foresee the days holding long Autumn walks, growing ever more comfortable with the forests and wood near our home. Will you join me?

P.S. I found this trail guide recently and love it! We can’t wait to take some excellent walks if it ever warms back up!Take a look!

The Blank Page

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Last night I was drinking rum, perhaps that explains a bit of this rambling. Perhaps not, it is quite possible that the thoughts have finally bubbled to the surface due in part to a vague suggestion. The idea that the young should travel -no, not should, but must- is not a new one. So often we send our recently graduated students out into the wider world in part because they need a job, but more so because they are at the perfect place to do the leaving. Nothing is holding them back, nothing is keeping them here.

What if you never left when you were young? Does the opportunity pass you by simply because you have children or are established in your community? Is the only way to successfully leave “later in life” if you are offered an amazing job opportunity? Why can’t freedom and exploration come at any point in life? Why do the repercussions seem harsher? Should children ever be uprooted? Y’all have been around long enough to understand where I’m at with these thoughts right? Good.

I’ve had trouble putting a solid feeling behind my desire for travel. I feel so deeply that it is no different from a desire to succeed or a want for love, but people don’t really get that correlation. In my alcohol-induced brilliance I came to the analogy of the blank page; not by chance mind you. No, it came about after a bit of a rambling from Bruce Springsteen that my sweet husband was listening to. (If you want to check out the song, you can buy it here from Amazon; Thunder Road (Springsteen on Broadway).  

For reasons I will not try to fully explain, this image made clear my own feelings. The blank page is a perfect metaphor for so many areas of my life. Most obvious is right here. There is something about the clear screen of my computer that makes me want to fill it with words and ideas and emotion. The driving can not be ignored with this idea either. Taking the road less traveled, wandering the secret paths, heading out alone into unknown territory is the very essence of who I am. Not least of the pieces of me that could be defined by this idea, is my inherent desire to travel. To get away from the comfortable and explore the wild. I am not satisfied to simply vacation away my time. I want to fill notebook pages with the beauty and chaos I experience in the great unknown. The white-space I tend to leave on my calendar, the silence I am forever seeking, the ever-constant decluttering; all model my need for a blank page.

Are you still with me? I tried to warn you about the rum…

I’ll ask again; am I too late? Should I resolve myself to the darkness of Winter and stationary life? My littles don’t all want to move South where cold will mean 50’s, but friends will need to be sought out. Should we stay to ease our fears? My sweet husband sees the hassle involved with our current plan. Should we stay for our comfort? Though my mother does not yet know that we may pick up and drive away, I can tell you that she does not want us to go. Should we stay to ease her worry? If I would have recognized my gypsy soul at eighteen would anyone have questioned me when I packed a duffle and drove away?

That changes the question a bit doesn’t it? Why didn’t I ever pack that bag? Why didn’t I ever load up the car? There’s a secret truth here, something I will not share fully with y’all today. We can blame fear for now and it will suffice as an acceptable reason. Fortunately for me there is no actual limit, implied or otherwise stated that tells me I can not go now. Even though I am so far past that “ideal” age.

The desire remains.

The passion stirs.

The page is still blank.

Sledding, Slowing, and Seeing

This is sort of a different, but not really, post for me. I frequently ramble on about getting out of this miserable weather or how much I despise the cold and dark. Occasionally I talk about something happening in the lives of my children. I’ve decided that today I will relate an adventure instead of whining, discuss a few moments of joy in winter on a day when I’d give most anything for 50 degrees warmer than it is right now. Weird right?

A few weeks ago, before the bitter cold completely engulfed central Minnesota, I took my children outside in the cold. Three whole days. I really did. I pulled on snow-pants and tucked wool socks into boots and drove out for some winter fun. This is unusual for me, if you haven’t figured that out by now. I don’t go out in the cold, I stay in, tucked under a blanket with a mug of tea in my hand most afternoons from December until, oh I don’t know…June or so. But I did this thing in the hope that embracing the cold would help it to not suck quite so much, and it did! It really, really did.

On our first day out we went to the big sledding hill in town on a perfectly sunshine-y day. Since it was the middle of the day there were only a few other kids on the hill and my bigger two went down and up at least a million times. Smiles plastered to their sweet faces. The teeny made it down, but needed convincing, and assistance, in coming back up. Eventually she and I made it across to gaze out over the river and walk along the stone ledge, we followed squirrel tracks in the patches of otherwise undisturbed snow, and she squealed with delight as she zoomed down the smaller hill.

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The sky was a perfect blue and I couldn’t help but stare up and think to myself that if this were winter, actual winter, I could handle it. For a brief moment in time I thought that I might actually make it out of this winter alive and with my smile still on my face. This day was filled with joy and peace. We were happy, even in the cold.

The second day out was more of the same. Sledding on a different hill with equally beautiful weather and, this time, friends. The day was only marred by forgotten ice skates. There were treks into the deep snow, a birds nest at eye level, and kids full of kindness. I have seldom been more surprised by a winter day than I was this day. The sun shone and the thermostats rose above 40 degrees. It was blissful and I was so very grateful.

I held out hope that this would be the winter that I didn’t hide indoors, that this would be the winter when I would do the embracing of the cold that everyone believes will bring me wintertime happiness. And I did get one more day. I am thankful for that third day and the walk we took. Being able to go out with my kids on adventures is one of my very favorite things. They have no agenda, few preconceived notions about what the day will hold. They need only a water bottle and a few snacks to explore a new space.

I love this about them.

I really hope that their attitude for adventures does not change much in the coming years, and not just for my own ease and enjoyment. If they can continue to be easy going as we travel and explore then they will continue to see the best in situations that may be less than ideal. They will keep their eyes open, slowing down to notice the red berries, the cup-shaped leaf, the tiny piece of agate in the gravel. If they can travel easy they will travel far. If they travel far they will be filled with wonder all of the days of their lives and I can think of little else that would be worth more, to give to a child.

The way this world spins, the pace it sets, the hustle we are expected to display…it causes the lives of children to be devoid of wonder. The lives of us all. I will continue to work to slow my tiny little piece of this world, if only a fraction and if only for my short time here. I will wander river paths while littles stomp in the snow. I will haul teenies up snow-hills so we can stay out longer. I will remember to bring the damned skates next time.

I will not enjoy winter. I don’t have it in me really. If it’s below 25 degrees, I’m not going out. I’m just not. I will revel in moments though. I will soak in the apricity, even if I have to sit on my living room floor under the picture window to do so. I will snap photos of joy-filled faces in deep snow and of Christmas tree lights shrouded under a blanket of white. I will be present this year, not just begging for it to end, but noticing all that I can while I’m here. This is not really what I’ve been encouraged to do by so many well wishing friends and strangers, but it is the best I can do. If it happens to get above thirty again soon, I’ll be one of the first people out there hopping over puddles, pulling sleds through the streets, and staring at the clear, blue sky.

On one of the last warm winter nights my sweet husband lit a fire on the deck, we stood out with blankets around our shoulders and hats pulled low over our ears. The stars were out and the noise of the city was somehow hushed just a bit. It was almost as if someone wanted me to see what winter could be. How I could be a small part of something that I hold such contempt for. How there is good, even in what we view as bad, and that we really don’t understand it all anyway. The peace washed over and the fire burned down to embers, time slowed, if only for a moment.

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Trusting Their Choices

I’ve been thinking about how I will allow my children to be more independent in their decision making. Since they were small, we have allowed quite a bit of freedom. Letting them jump in the puddles and then dealing with cold, wet feet has always been the best way for them to learn not to jump in puddles with tennis-shoes on. My sweet husband calls this method the “experiential” manner of parenting. I’m not sure if that’s actually a thing, but while he teases me with it from time to time, I think it is the best way to describe my overall philosophy for life. How will we learn if we do not experience?

Still, my ten-year-old is getting to a point in life where learning through doing can cost her more than just wet feet. I wonder how to provide all of the right activities for her to live her bigger-girl life without overly harsh consequences? Too much freedom given in the teen years can lead to all sorts of unchangeable life situations, choices that will need to be lived through for years to come, not just an afternoon. Yet I know that this child learns best by living, by putting her truest self out there and trying it out in the real world. I have no answers for these questions this morning, we will walk along this path together, hopefully the puddles won’t be too deep for awhile yet and we figure out the necessary boundaries as we go.

I also have been watching my littler kids, my husband and I give them a lot of space to learn by trying things out, but these two youngest kids are around a lot of other peoples parents, how do I let them think for themselves when so many other mommas don’t give their own kids the freedoms we allow? How do I respect other parents’ boundaries, while still letting my kids respect their own? I know that I need to be more vocal, explaining to my mom-friends the “why” behind the seemingly crazy things I “permit” my children to choose. I forget that our way is what has worked best for our family and, while I don’t need to force it on anyone else, I do need to respect it even in situations where other kids might not be allowed to do the things my kids choose to do.

If I don’t respect the guidelines that I show my kids one on one when we are in a group situation, it sends a mixed message and my kid may start to question her body or brain. That is something that will come back to bite me when we are climbing or on an unfamiliar trail and they suddenly question themselves in a moment of fear. I know that by letting them climb out as far as they feel safe, by letting them jump off the highest wall they are comfortable on, by simply allowing them to choose to wear a coat or not, they are learning that their choices matter. More than that they are learning that they have power over their own choice. They also see that they are capable, sometimes they fall, sometimes they flail, sometimes they come down a step first, but because we are there to bandage the scrapes and encourage the efforts, they trust themselves.

I suppose that is how I’m hoping to make it through the teen years with grace this time. We have allowed, permitted, encouraged even, this child to listen to her body. To trust her gut, to choose what is best for her through all of her “little” years. Unconsciously, by supporting her in these small things we have encouraged her to do the same with the big things to come. Hopefully she has failed enough and dealt with unpleasant consequences enough times to have those lessons to draw from as she matures. Ideally, she will have so much faith in her own body and brain that she will not fall to pressures or fail to be true to herself.

And so we continue. This day I will allow my eight-year-old to wear shorts…in January…in Minnesota…because that is his choice and he has yet to regret it, though I can’t look at him some days without shivering. I will watch my tiny stomp out into the snow wearing dress shoes and be there holding the boots I suggested before we left the house if she chooses to admit that snow is cold when it melts into your shoes! (I know that she will not admit that, she is as stubborn as I am and she will deal with wet feet for as long as she is able, but next time? She’ll choose the boots from the start because she’ll remember.) I will explain myself better to the other moms that we interact with so that I don’t have kids who second guess themselves.

This is not always easy. I often try very hard to explain my “why” to my kids when I want them to do one thing and they are certain that their own way is best. It is hard to remember that cold fingers will not kill an otherwise healthy child when my own life experiences tell me to put on mittens. It is difficult to stop and see their independence growing when the way they want to be independent causes me to need to plan ahead more. I mean, you really can’t let kids be free to explore their world without remembering to pack a spare pair of clothes and a towel or two. I’m banking on this being best though, that as they grow up they will know themselves and have a wealth of their own experiences to draw from. Not just scary words that grown ups threatened them with.

While my confidence often lags behind what I know to be true in this area, I have decided to commit to advocating for them more vocally. If your family plans to meet up with mine on one of these mild winter days please be prepared. I will not be telling my kids they can’t eat snow because they’ll get too cold, that they can’t take their coat…and hoodie…and snow-pants off (insert eye-roll here). Because I trust that when they are cold they will put them back on. I will continue to let my kids climb the trees, stand on the ledges, and jump from the rocks. Whether we are with friends or not. Because I really, really do want them to hear their own inner voice whisper and they won’t be able to do that if I’m constantly screaming at them to “not”.

Join me won’t you? It takes only a few steps. Choose a day and pack the car with all of the things you might need, take the extra time to do this. Then let your kid choose. Shorts in winter? Sure, if you want (you can pack pants). Take a few steps out onto the thin ice at the bend in the creek? Yes (you can explain currents and how far is safe, you can have spare boots and socks in the backpack). Climb on the frozen, metal playground equipment? Yep. (Maybe put dry mittens on first though?) Life should be experienced friends, even at four-years-old.

Advent Reflections

One year is not a long time. Except that it is. Yesterday I posted something that I wrote a year ago. A reminder to quiet myself in this Advent season if nothing more. As I read through the place I was a year ago some realizations drifted into my consciousness. I went out to pick up my girl shortly after that and on the drive I sat with some of the emotions that were expressed in that year-ago-ramble.

I had shared a desire for three things for myself in the Advent season.

To Wander.

To Whisper.

To Wait.

As I meditated on those three broad goals I found myself deeply at peace with where I am now. The wandering over the past year has reached a place I hadn’t thought possible. Not only did my baby buy a camper and a truck to pull it with, but we got out and explored so intensely. I took my littles to seven state parks this Summer. Seven! I found my very first wild lady slipper. My sweet man and I went to Itasca alone for two nights and saw a sky so full of stars that we lay down in the middle of a warm, dirt road and stared in awe and wonder. I hiked more miles, climbed more rocks, and sat around more camp-fires than I have in a decade. My soul was at peace.

All of this great exploring inspired some more local adventures as well. We found friends who wanted to get out and explore with us. We took trips together with new friends and walked at old parks with dear, familiar friends. It slowed me down a lot. It taught me to say no to a lot of good things in favor of saying yes to family time, to togetherness, to being able to throw a lunch box in the truck and drive away for the day simply because we had no locked-in plans. At the end of this Summer we went to a local wildlife refuge for an astronomy “lesson” and night hike. This was way outside of my comfort level because it was far-ish from home, I’d have the littles to keep track of, and it was going to be cold-ish. Even though the sky was cloudy and few stars were seen, this walk has been an often recalled, favorite memory for my littles. Had we not been in the woods so much this Summer I would not have even attempted the hike, but now I am so very glad that I did.

 

The whispering, well…I still yell. I still yell when I am frustrated and I still yell when I need a child to come upstairs and I still yell when a child starts to dart off into traffic. BUT! I know, after much reflection that I yell less today than I used to. I use a quieter voice a lot of the time. More than that though, I am less angry or frenzied than I was a year ago. There is more peace inside of me to draw from and so I don’t feel like I need to reach the insanity level of mothering quite as often as I once did. While I will never be satisfied with how often I shout, I do see improvement and that feels a lot like success to me.

I have also learned that as the little children grow they need my loud voice less frequently. They are learning what is right and I am learning to let them make choices and live with them more of the time. I can choose to let the child make a mistake instead of stopping it some of the time. They are safe and they know to come to me with their problems, I see them doing this more and more and I am grateful that some days I can just keep my mouth shut all together.

 

The wait. I have anticipated this Advent for a few months now. Things have felt sort of hurried in our house, like we are flitting past each holiday, each milestone, each memory snapping pictures but not being in the moment. I have hoped the feeling of Advent would jump in early and overtake me without any effort on my part so that this spin would slow. Despite my best effort, it didn’t. I took two weeks off of our normal activities, some of those I planned deliberately, sickness knocked off a few others and I actually forgot one or two. My husband also took a two week leave from work and we have all really enjoyed it, but the days are still flying by with little white-space in the margins.

Today is the first Monday of Advent and I can already feel the slower pace. While today was full and busy and didn’t really stop even for a minute, I started it in quiet reflection…and that honestly did make all of the difference. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t always help, some days are rough and no amount of time on the mountaintop will change their sharpness. On day three of my Advent walk though, it did. I was still and alone with my God before any other things happened or needed to happen. I was able to anticipate the joy that the day would bring, the stressors that would pull at me, the things I wanted to do that probably wouldn’t get done, and I was able to call them all good. And to be thankful for each item on my calendar. I was able to see the light that God was and is shining into my day.

 

 

To wander…To whisper…To wait… While I walked through the year between Advents’ I didn’t notice all of the work that was being done in my heart and in my soul. Today, as I looked back over a year spent in wildness I can see the heart changes that have come into my being, and I am grateful. I’ll jot that down into my journal in the morning, so many graces heaped upon me over this past year. I find it so overwhelming- the lavish love of Jesus. I have this verse in my head and underlined in my Bible, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” Hebrews 6:19 I’m thinking one day I’ll tattoo it on my skin as a stark and remarkable reminder that no matter where I wander, no matter how softly I whisper, no matter how long I wait…the anchor of my soul is still firm…is still secure…I needn’t worry.

In the stillness of this morning I wrap my hands around a steamy mug of black coffee and wait, whispering to myself and to my God of the next grand adventure I have planned, hoping that it fits His plan for me as well as this past year has. I’m in prayer for each of you who is reading these words, that you will feel anchored securely in the midst of your own wild wandering. And that you would have the peace to continue without fear.

 

If you missed the reprint of the original post mentioned in this article you can find it here.

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