Let’s be honest please. Most of you didn’t even realize that I was gone. I like to pretend that I told each of you that I was turning it off, shutting down my world to fewer than seven people. Or I did pretend that. It’s got to a point that it doesn’t matter anymore how few people have checked in or touched base. I’m at peace with this small world I’m occupying.
It is hard to be the one who makes sure everyone is okay, when you’re not okay yourself. I live in this world most winters so I had an idea of how this quarantine would go. It is okay, I do understand, you have to take care of your own family, your own mental health, there isn’t much left over at the end of the day for anyone else. Especially if you feel like everyone else is doing at least as good as you are.
Something struck me this morning as I boiled water though, this thought that as I have dropped off the societal map, no one seemed to notice. Is what I have done in my circle unimportant? Does it matter even to one person? I will acknowledge my close friends have stayed close and a couple of good friends have tried. I will further acknowledge that I did tell a small handful of friends that I was shutting off my platforms for digital socializing as they were causing my anxiety to peak in ways that I couldn’t get a handle on.
It makes a person feel insignificant. When you have spent several years bringing people in and caring for them, even in small ways. Helping them to feel they belong, giving them a place to just be, pulling others around them to shelter them and lift them up and give them a home in friendship….and no one calls or sends a text.
Why do we do this as a group? Why can’t we care for our extended circles when we are not in physical contact with them? Why do so many people fall so easily off of our radar and out of our good intentions? I’ll admit it likely seems that I have chosen to ignore most of the people I associate with. I know my why and I know that many of you have something similar that you’re dealing with, or something harder.
This ramble was written in April of this year. At a point where my anxiety was being managed by “duct taped and chicken wire” and I needed to get out the thoughts but not actually share them because they were too harsh for a hurting world, too personal for my closest friends. I am doing better now, managing in healthier ways, finding the balance between isolation and a previous normal. But I know not everyone is doing better, and I can understand why.
Looking back I see how we all really are doing our best. No one can be everything they want to be all of the time. Something has to give and our own immediate circle must come first.
This post was never finished, never edited carefully, never really meant for your eyes, I leave it here for those who need it now, still, again. I’m sharing these thoughts today in case you’re feeling alone where you are. Under the normal crush of winter and fears of global pandemic. Know you are loved. Trust that I am praying over you, yes you.
Things are weird right now, right? I’m sure they are with you too. Even though a lot of you reading my page are homeschoolers, this whole lock down on everything good (the library) and fun (museums, theatres, gyms) and perfect (empty parks in spring because everyone else is at school!!!) has me feeling a little like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.
I’ve tried to decide how best to respond to this whole calamitous disaster (oh, the drama) and have found that my personal feelings are all over the emotional map. One day I am pep-talking a friend who is on edge because small-people-overload and the next I can not tear my own eyes away from the media espousing imminent threat to the well being of my whole family.
My posts over on my facebook page have been following this up and down trend with my emotions and I feel like I need to get a handle on it. My personal faith that God is good and that He will work all things for good has definitely not been clear in the messages I’ve been sending out into the world.
While I have been sitting in the quiet, praying fervently morning and night (and multiple times in the noise of the mid-day), I dont know that those prayers are being felt, that friends are seeing the results as God breathed. Even as I praise God for providing healing, or rest, or a mental break, or physical supplies or….I wonder if the people receiving these things see them as from God.
I know that I should pray in private and my God who knows all things done in secret will hear and answer my heartfelt prayer (see Matt. 6:6). I also know that prayer is my most powerful weapon and that I, personally, am called to pray. It is my gift and my deepest calling. I don’t always understand why this is “all” I get to do, but I trust that it is what I must do.
How do I share God’s gospel with those I am praying over? Or, is it enough to lift them up, to check in with them and to let them know that I am in fact praying? If they do not believe in prayer or in God are my prayers enough to them? Do they want more from me? These are the questions I ask at the end of my prayers some mornings. Though, not every morning. There are days when I trust that all I am doing here is exactly what is needed.
I don’t claim to know all there is to know about intercessory prayer, but I believe that it works whether the person being prayed over believes or not. I trust this because I have seen it. I know that even if a person rejects the power of prayer, they can still be blessed by it. There are no limits on my God and no limits on the prayers he asks me to lift up to Him.
Ultimately, I pray His will be done and I teach my children this same prayer. Not my will, not what I want or even what I think is best…but His good and perfect will be done in my life, in the lives of those I love, in the lives of all those I pray over. This giving up of the outcome of my prayer has done two things; first it allows me to trust God more completely. If I do not dictate the outcome of a situation to God I feel that I am fully putting my trust in Him, which is exactly where my trust belongs. Secondarily, it frees me from needing to know what is best. Because I do not know. I can not know, or even assume what the long term plan may be. Even when the right-now answer to prayer feels wrong, I can trust that God knows better than me. Even when it feels upsetting or scary or weird, God knows what is best.
Maybe that is part of why I “just” pray. Because I can’t explain that to an unbeliever. I can’t tell them how God not healing or not providing or not changing a situation can still be good. I can’t explain that, but I know it to be true.
When my brother passed away due to a sudden, inexplicable accident at just 17 years old it would have been easy to say that I could not see the good. When my mother offered no condemnation and complete forgiveness in a time of all-consuming grief, it would be probable to say that I could not understand. In a blinding time of overwhelm you would assume that I could not see the goodness of God. And yet, in the inexplicable, all-consuming, overwhelming crush of this experience I felt God’s presence, His hand in each decision, each action, each moment. He was there through the horror of that time for us and He is here in this time of hurt for His world.
I’m not sure that I’m doing justice to what I’m trying to say here. I don’t want to, or like to, write about my brother. It always seems to lack the power I hope the message will present. It never feels like I can use the correct words to express the weight of losing him or the strength that God poured into my mother and my sisters in that time. I’ll leave it here today though and hopefully, prayerfully, you will see what I’m trying to say by including him.
…I’m checking in a lot more with people in my circles these days. I need to know what they need. I need to know how to pray for them. I need to be there in this way, however unknown it feels and however inactive it keeps me. It may not be what you think you need, to you it may feel like I am not doing anything at all. But I’ll still do it. I’ll still lift you up, whether you ever know it or feel it is not up to me. That part is not for me to control.
I have decided that I will continue to be transparent and let you know when I’m feeling the crush or the fear that this world is throwing at me. It doesn’t mean that I don’t trust that God’s got this, it means only that He needs me to come back to Him in prayer. It’s a good reminder that I can rely on Him. If you need prayer, and, I mean, we all do, won’t you message me?
How long does it take to grow a garden? Can you rush it along and hurry it to it’s final, beautiful stages? Can you drop store bought plants into the ground, mulch heavily, water and then sit back and relax away the rest of the season? Is it possible to work diligently for one solid season and enjoy for the rest of your days? This is not just about the garden dear ones.
I can assure you it takes a very, long time.
This is our seventh Summer living in the midst of my garden. Each year, except this one (so far), I have carved away more and more sod to lay garden beds. Lilies, Iris, Lilac, Hosta, Coneflower, Borage, so many more now spill out everywhere. Happily thriving in the rich, heavily composted soil. My sweet husband once replied to my request to extend a bed with something like; “Well, it’s less to mow.”.
Y’all know how hard the winter is on me here. The garden itself and the work done in it is what saves me from deepest depression. Oh sure, there are myriad other contributing factors, but really, the garden keeps my soul above water. I can see it now, this year as I have faced walking away from it. I can see that I did not just grow a garden, I have grown a place for my soul to sit with God and find rest amidst all of the work it has required of me.
I have grown the garden for the riot of color, for the produce, the herbs, the smells, the feel of the dirt under my nails and on my knees…but there is so much more. When you pour yourself into something, like a garden in Minnesota, you get to miss it and think of it and dream of it for several months of the year. It is something to be desired, longed for, ached over even. It is not just a space to sit and sip rum ( I wrote about this once) or a pretty place to rest; though it is that as well. For me at least, though I know not for all of you, a garden is a place to straighten out my thoughts when they are more scattered than daisy seeds on the wind. A space to pray the darkest, scariest, most fear-filled prayers while surrounded by light.
As I mentioned, this is my seventh season in this garden, and this year for sure it is a little out of hand. We were enjoying ourselves at the beach for the month of June and so the garden at home was allowed to run wild. I have been gifted truckloads of mulch twice and that kept the weeds down to a minimum, but the flowers (and the wild-flowers, aka weeds that I allow to grow in my space) took the month to explode and grow and soak up all that my absence allowed. In the old testament it is required to let the fields rest in the seventh year, I wonder if the Jewish people were still able to collect some sort of harvest from those resting fields? Did the fields still provide something of value to those people as my garden has provided for me even as I have given it (part of) the season off?
I wonder about this as I wander among the raspberry brambles collecting as many berries as I ever have in the well-cultivated years. I don’t know how this matters to you, but it matters to me. I can’t help but assume that whatever seeds fell to the ground in those ancient fields would have grown up in the season of rest, even without tending. Sure, there would have been weeds and wildflowers too, but…
Provision is a word that I can not help but associate with my Creator as well as with the garden He allows to grow up around me. He provides all things in their season. He allows all things at their most perfect time. He gives good, good gifts. I see this clearly not only because I grow a garden, but I see it amongst the flowers and herbs more than most other places. This Summer as I look around our yard, trying to decide what to do next (both in the immediate and life-altering sense) I have found my rest, I can see the provision ever-more obviously. This is not what I expected to find here.
This morning I definitely planned to write about the garden, to reveal to you in some small way that it takes a lot of time, effort, and passion to grow. I wanted to examine a bit how the garden has shaped me as I have worked to shape it. Somehow I have lost that track. Now as I sit, I can only see how the Lord has provided so many, many times for me. There has never been a moment that I have strayed from His care even when I ran hard and fast away from His will for me. I’m not really sure I can finish this post well.
I have been sitting with a decision this past week. Well, really we’ve been working on this for the better part of a year now, for me though a lot of it became real in the past couple of weeks. I wasn’t really going to tell you how I have realized that I could not ask all of my people to do something “just for me”, even though they were willing. I wasn’t going to write out how selfish that made me feel or how I knew at once the words were spoken that we could not follow through with our plans at this time in our lives. I was not intending to let you know that we changed our plans and were moving hard and fast toward a different end, yet here I sit typing it all out.
And now that plan is changed as well.
The garden is where it began and this garden is where I will stay. I didn’t come here this morning to tell you that we were not going to move away, but I suppose maybe I did. I wasn’t completely sold on the plan to stay here in this house, in this neighborhood, in this garden. Typing this out though has made me realize more than I would be willing to tell you. I now realize that knowing your family is willing to move across the country for you, in planning to do just that, and then choosing together to stay. That is not the abandoning of a dream, but the realization that you are truly loved, there can be no fear there.
The garden. Provision. Goodness. Peace.
Someday I will go friends, though it seems that day is far off. I’m a little sorry for dragging you along on this emotional journey, but not too much so. Over the year of planning to leave and the last couple of days and weeks in deciding how and where to stay, I have seen how loved I am. How connected to community we are. How leaving this village would not benefit any of the people I love enough to do it. I had felt that there was too much concession on my part, but that’s just not true. I am not giving up a dream, merely postponing it. And I completely trust that wanting this one thing and receiving another will work together for our good. I have no fear and no regret, only peace…though it did take some time in the garden to get there.
When at once we know we are created and that we are creators we can rest at peace. Knowing that all of life will fall perfectly into place as it has been created in perfection.
I didn’t always believe that God would work all together for my good.
At those most questioning, seeking moments I don’t know whether I searched after God with all of my heart or if I just searched blindly but honestly and found that God was in my heart. I remember spending a lot of time looking and a lot of time in prayer and a lot of time in the quiet, waiting. I still ask God a lot of questions and the more of my Bible that I read the more questions I seem to have.
This I know: God is not afraid of my questioning.
Over time I have realized that my questioning mind has brought me closer to Him, even if I don’t always feel the answers are super clear. I can see now that often the point of the questions; the reason they are put in my mind, is only to bring me closer to God. By seeking so hard for what is true and what is good and, well, so much more, I have spent an intense amount of time with my creator.
I’ve decided in my own heart that this is the only point. For me at least. The point of bringing all things to God, the point of asking Him so many “why’s”, the entire reason for my being…is simply to build a closer relationship with the lover of my very soul. This has helped me accept and process an innumerable amount of personal barriers. Knowing that the bad things will come and the hard days will march along, but that whether good or bad, pleasant or trying, full of snow or sunshine…in taking each moment to God and leaving it there at His feet…a deeper peace is found.
It is freeing to know that all of the hardships and all of the mountaintops are only to bring me to Him. I’m not tapping these keys, telling you that I dont worry or wonder or have days where my anxiety creeps itchy and red up my neck. I’m not saying that at all. What I’m trying to say is that regardless of my worry or wonder I know where to take it, and that has made all of the difference. For me at least.
I don’t know how to share this. How to explain my heart to the masses. I suppose it’s good that only a few of y’all read what I write, there are no “masses” to please. I want to put it out there though. If each moment of your life drives you to your knees or brings you closer to Him; well, then that moment has done what it was intended to do. And you’ve done what you should with that moment. No need to fix it or understand it or examine it further.
Be at peace with your Creator. Trust for today that what He wants is a relationship with you. Or believe it for the next hour if that’s all you can do for now. He is good, believe it.
***I know this post is not what you’ve come to expect from me…this is where I’m at today though. Thank you for reading it through, I am grateful.***
Last week I came here and wrote a smidge about our current Summer adventure. How it had slowed us even more than before and how it has me wondering if I’m doing this whole thing right. I want to use the opportunity to be home with my littles to it’s fullest advantage, but not take advantage of the opportunity either.
My sweet husband takes incredibly good care of us, sacrifices and gives pretty selflessly. While the children and I run at the track and splash at the beach and read for hours each day, he is at work. On his days off he squeezes in as much as he can and often doesn’t understand how we can do everything so slowly. I know it makes him a little bonkers when we don’t appreciate how limited his time is. This is something that I need to work on. Not our lack of speed, but being able to move at his pace when he needs us to.
While I do want my sweet man to be home with us more, to be able to go on more adventures, and to learn to slow down I don’t really know how to make that happen. Also, I don’t know that he really wants to spend that much uninterrupted time with us. So I continue to walk slow, to make “less” and “small” good, to sit with him in his own time and space. I do this because I want him to know how grateful I am that he has gifted me (and the children) with this really, really good life.
Not a lot of people would stay at an imperfect fit of a job “just” because it provides well. Not a lot of people would take all of the traveling options sent their way simply because their love wants to wander with her deepest heart. Not a lot of people…but my person. He is a good man.
This whole piece about him needing to work and working at a job that is maybe not his first choice -even though he is extremely good at what he does- makes me think about the littles and our older kids too. What will his sacrifice provide long term? Are our biggest kids following their heart’s desires? Are they willing to live with less to do what makes them shine? Or will they one day be like him? Feeling somewhat stuck?
Those slow littles…will they some day be able to pull a career out of the blue, clear sky that fits their personal speed? Will they struggle at a job that is a poor fit? Will having had this childhood, full of time to know themselves, lead their life choices to be uncompromising, certain, confident? Or will it make “real life” harsh?
They are still small, and no one can say for sure what is to come. This I know with certainty, but I prefer to hope. Hope that time spent in books builds their desire to always learn and be imaginative. Hope that time spent in wandering woods builds a sense of, and desire for, adventure. Hope that being allowed to follow their interests will inspire them to try all of the things and see what sticks.
My first ever post here was about what I want for them and those words ring truer today than ever before. By giving them the time to grow and learn as they naturally would I believe that they will be better able to discern the choices they’ll need to make as they grow. I trust that by slowing down they will be more in tune with their inner rhythms. This all seems overly optimistic, I know.
I’ll also add here that my teeny is not so much keen on my “slow”. She pushes hard and fast from the moment she wakes until the last minute of the day. She has so much that she wants to do, so much to see, so many places to go. Perhaps this is just a factor of her age, fours and fives aren’t really known for their chill. I wonder though if she will follow this faster current and if she’ll be the one to drag the rest of us after her. She certainly has the determination to do so. I also wonder if we will let her do it or if the other children will fight her on this faster pace…they certainly have the determination to do it.
Ultimately, I know that I dont get to say what the kids will do or be. I know they are not really mine in that sense. They are already on their own path. For now it runs parallel to mine, or rather, it continually intersects mine. Sometimes they walk beside, other times they cross over, often they lead, occasionally they follow. I see the gift it is that I get to walk with them at all.
This was quite a ramble friends, I thank you if you made it this far. I suppose what I’m saying is that I want for all of my people to be true to themselves, and that I want to help them on that journey so much as I can. What is it you hope for your children, your spouse, your best-of-friends? How are you actively working toward that goal today? After spending a few days in the writing of this post I can see some places where I am not being as supportive as I should be. There is more that I can do. I’ll put more thought into that as these closer-to-Summer days unfold slow and long. Perhaps after some thought I’ll come back here with an update.
For today? Someone should go check on my flower beds…I imagine the peonies are gorgeous just now.
I sit here typing on my phone-something I really dont like to do. The keyboard always works against me adding letters and slurring my words. I have to proofread very carefully so that the autocorrect feature doesn’t make me look like a moron. It’s a frustratingly slow process, and you’ll still probably catch several errors that I’ve missed.
Today is the day though. The day we begin. The day we set out. The day where we put all excuses aside and go. All of the things have been packed, which is why I am typing on my phone. Most of the things have been cleaned, though not very well. None of the groceries have been bought, but the stores will open soon. If everything works perfectly this is the first of many nights I’ll fall asleep with my head in my camper bed.
I was up early today, sipping my coffee, waiting for the birds to wake up and begin their singing. Sitting in the stillness, seeking a bit of peace and a restfulness that did not come while sleeping. As I tap out these lines I wonder if everything is ready?
…if we are ready.
There is a lot a person needs to do to walk away from their house for six weeks. Most of it is done, but likely not all. I’m not sure how often I will wake in a panic realizing some thing I have left undone. Hopefully not too many. Hopefully I don’t think much about this place at all.
The most difficult part for me is the people, as I knew it would be. Leaving this community makes me cautious. I know I can leave this over-large house with all of it’s sweeping and scrubbing. I know that I can (someday) leave Minnesota and it’s frigid temps without any sadness at all. I can even leave the gardens I’ve cultivated for going on seven Summers; though that one is a close second. The women in my circle though…I’m not sure what life will look like without their daily influence.
In this modern-American culture we tend to think that we can do everything by ourselves, and that we should. I’ve written about this before (here and here and especially here), but community can not be ignored. Indeed it should not. As I think about the ways my people have built upon each other I am overwhelmed. I know we have our struggles, our difficulties, our disagreements; we do life together after all, but the good in the group outweighs the bad of being outside of it.
In the past few weeks I have dug berry plants for and with friends, I have been delivered wood chips, I have gifted garden accessories and other small treasures, I have been saved from an empty gas tank, and I have sold off a million pieces of my life to these friends. I have people to pray for and people who pray over me. I have friends whom I message daily and those whom I wish I could touch base with more often.
This. This I will miss a lot. This I may regret leaving.
I will miss sitting, tucked away in a corner of a yard while children run and scream. I will miss a friend dropping by to my messy, chaotic house with no worry over it. I will miss all of their children. I will miss rushing to a planned event because I want every possible minute with these women. This worries me, makes me think I can’t do it. Can’t really go for good, isn’t that messed up? I mean it’s not, but I spent all of these years aching for this community only to finally have it and then to come to a point where I am in a position to go where my heart calls. Which requires me to start over on so many different spirals of life. Maybe we always need something to cry out for?
I was telling a friend recently how I was nervous to walk away for this season and she kindly reminded me that we will still be together, if not physically. She noted that my circle may be a couple of hours away but that the values we share will hold us close. She was right of course. We will have to work harder to maintain friendships, but they can be maintained. Even grown.
This opportunity to travel (even a bit) and to live smaller is something I have longed for, as most of you know. I can’t pass it up. The need to follow this path and see where it leads beats within my very heart. Who knows what we will learn over the next few weeks? I am excited too.
Often I get stuck in that worrisome place. Seeing only the difficult part of the adventure ahead. I don’t want to do that with this. This chance to be out there, living something that has long called to me is exciting. I see that too. I will be concerned over walking away from dear friends, but! Instead of only worrying, I plan to work. To work on building a larger community for myself, for my family. I mean, there are people everywhere, and most of them probably want the love and the connection I am fortunate enough to feel every day. So, I’ll try to bring it, to build it, to create it.
I’m praying for this opportunity right now. I dont want to get bogged down in the sadness of leaving my people, and I dont want to simply find new or different people. What I am hoping for is complex, I know. That ever-widening of the circle will be difficult to be sure, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth it too. If you’re close, you know there are still many miles to go but I thank you for being here on the path with me.
And so today is the beginning. The start of a wider circle, a wilder path, a larger wonder.
Or maybe tomorrow, the rain forecast for tonight looks pretty severe…
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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.